This Rotten World | Book 4 | Winter of Blood

she had secretly been plotting to get rid of them the whole time for the deaths of Lou and Clara. The only thing that had stayed her hand had been their big, round bellies and the babies inside. But she hadn't thought about the other side… well, to be fair, she had, she just hadn't thought about it much. They had killed the fathers of their babies, and that was going to be hard to move past. If she were in that situation, how would she feel? She'd probably want to kill the people that did it. The idea shocked her—that her brain could even comprehend the concept of killing. Her entire life, up until the end of the world, had been dedicated to saving lives. Now, the idea of killing just flit across her mind with no more consequence than a snatch of remembered song.

She was about to say, "I can put the past behind me," when Dez spoke up and said, "Fuck that."

Theresa and Liz shared a look loaded with meaning. They had obviously expected Dez's reaction.

Dez continued on. "You fuckers left me tied up in there. You let me lie there, and you didn't lift a finger to help."

"What did you want us to do?" Theresa asked.

"Do something," Dez yelled. "Don't just sit there. You didn't even come in to see me. You didn't even come in to help, and don't think I don't know why, Theresa!" Dez was shouting now.

"Hey, keep it down," Mort said. "You're going to bring the dead."

But Dez didn't keep it down. She barreled straight ahead, "You wanted Chad for yourself, so you wanted me out of the way!"

"You didn't even want him!" Theresa shouted back.

The two rose from their seats then, and Joan began to get real nervous. She did a quick scan for weapons. There weren't many about except for her spear and the steak knives they had been using to cut their meat. If Theresa had wanted to clear the air in order to make peace, it was not going well.

"Didn't matter what I did and didn't want. You could have had his sorry ass. You didn't need to talk everyone into locking me away."

"You were going to kill yourself. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me."

"And I bet you regret that now!" Dez yelled.

They were inches from each other's faces. If Joan could have stood and walked over to them without fear of being tossed to the ground due to her leg, she would have stepped between the two. Katie seemed content to just watch. Liz and Tammy sat watching the two with a glazed expression as if they were watching an old episode of Live PD. Joan glanced over at Mort. He clearly didn't know what to do.

"You guys, this is unnecessary," Joan said.

"Stay out of it," Dez commanded without looking at her.

"Mind your own business," Theresa said.

Joan decided to bow out, but as her last word, she said, "At least drop the steak knives if you two are going to go at it."

Dez looked down in her hand. She gripped the knife tightly, her knuckles white, except where they had split from the dryness of the winter air. Her hand wavered for a second, and then she threw the knife on the ground.

Theresa realized how close she might have come to death. Her steak knife sat on her plate where she had left it. She didn't say anything for a second, and then her throat bobbed as if she was swallowing a shit sandwich. "I'm sorry," she said.

Dez didn't have anything to say to that, but Joan could see a little bit of the tension go out of her.

"What I did was wrong," Theresa said. "I know that. I could lie and say that you deserved it, or that it was between you and Chad, but I know I'm partly responsible for it. So, I'm sorry." Tears glinted in Theresa's eyes, and Joan started to feel herself getting emotional.

The ball was in Dez's court, but she just stood there, her fists clenched.

"I'm sorry, too," Joan said.

All eyes turned to look at her.

She swallowed her own lump of shit sandwich and forged ahead. "I'm sorry that we killed your friends." She hadn't actually killed any of them that hadn't been bitten, but at the moment, she didn't think any of that mattered. "I'm sorry that I've been giving you all the cold shoulder. I'm sorry that I've been thinking about getting back at you for the death of my friends. My friends were good people, and though I didn't know them, I'm sure your friends were all good people too."

Dez turned and looked at her, her eyes two dark sparkles reflecting the firepit. The sun had gone down. Joan could see from the look on her face that she was going to undo all of the apologizing she had just done.

"I'm sorry too," Mort said. "I killed some of your people. I ain't gonna make no excuses. I don't like killing. I don't think there are enough of us to be killing anyone. I won't do it again. You got my promise."

His words rang true. For all of the insecurities that Mort exhibited in social situations, he certainly had a way of coming through at exactly the right moment. Dez looked at Mort, and then the others apologized as well. They apologized for their cattiness, their whispered plans for killing the others, their refusal to lend a hand and help each other.

By the time they were done, Joan saw tears in the eyes of most of the women around the camp. The lone exception was Dez. She still stood, though Theresa had settled back down long ago. The group looked at her expectantly.

Dez looked up at the sky, as if having a conversation with an invisible