“You promise me that, okay? Promise me you’ll see this to the end.”
Dan opens his mouth, hesitating, thinking that he can’t promise that, that if he did, he would be accepting the fact that William’s not coming, and there’s no way he’s accepting that.
“I promise,” he whispers.
SEVENTEEN
Iver is called out of a blessed deep and dreamless sleep.
At first, he can’t recall anything. He’s so tired and just wants to keep sleeping. But something tells him he needs to wake up.
He opens his eyes slowly and with difficulty, finding himself on a couch in an unfamiliar room. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows.
Where am I?
For a moment, he’s sure he was out drinking last night.
Then it all comes back to him.
The ferry.
The undead.
Agnete’s house.
He sits up, feeling dizzy, then goes to the window and looks out. He’s on the second floor and the view over the island is quite stunning. The town off in the distance with all the small, picturesque houses and narrow streets; the green hills and the rose hip bushes along the gravel road leading to Agnete’s house; not to mention the blue water in the horizon, sparkling in the early day sun.
The only thing ruining the image is the many figures waddling around, their movements stiff and unnatural, their clothes wet and tattered, their expressions blank. He can also see smoke rising from something burning somewhere and several of the houses have barred-up windows with dead people standing right outside, trying to get in.
At least we’re not the only survivors on the island.
The thought makes him think of Adam.
When Iver finally returned to the house last night, Agnete and the toddler were both sleeping. Chris went straight to bed and Caroline stayed up, keeping watch. Linda and Leif both stayed downstairs.
Iver goes to the hallway and finds the other two upstairs doors open, both the one to the kid’s room and Agnete’s bedroom. He checks them both and finds them empty.
From downstairs, he can hear someone talking.
He goes down the staircase and finds everyone gathered around Agnete’s dining table. The atmosphere down here is quite different from upstairs, due to the windows all being barred-up and the lamps providing fake lighting instead.
Agnete is feeding Adam, and the rest seem to have finished eating already, judging from the empty plates.
Linda and Leif are seated next to each other across from Chris and Charlotte, like an awkward, mismatched couple’s date out for a brunch that none of them enjoy.
The only one speaking is the radio, that same male voice from yesterday.
“Can we turn that shit off?” Linda says, nodding towards the radio on the counter.
“We need to be kept in the loop,” Chris says.
“Well, he doesn’t really tell us anything we don’t know already.”
“He might,” Chris says calmly, not moving.
“Then we’ll turn it back on later,” Linda replies, getting up and walking to the radio. She shuts it off with a sigh of relief, muttering as she sits back down: “That was getting on my nerves.”
Chris—who can reach the radio from where he’s sitting—reaches an arm out and, without taking his eyes off Linda, turns it back on.
“You don’t call the shots here,” he tells Linda, who’s glaring fire across the table at him. “But we’ll make a compromise.” He then turns the volume down low. “How about that?”
Leif and Charlotte exchange a look, then look at Linda, waiting for her reaction. Even Agnete senses an argument brewing and stops feeding Adam the porridge, causing him to reach for the spoon.
Linda massages the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Chris repeats. He smiles and looks around at the others. “See? We’re already learning to get along here. Now, can we talk?”
“We’re still waiting for Iver,” Agnete interjects.
Iver clears his throat and steps closer. “I’m here.”
“Oh, look who’s finally rested,” Chris remarks, turning to look at him. “Were you tired after your little mission last night?”
Iver ignores him and addresses Agnete. “Did he sleep okay?”
She looks up at him, smiling. “He slept like a log. And he hasn’t stopped eating since he woke up.”
“Well, it’s good he has an appetite,” Iver says, stroking Adam’s head and immediately feeling awkward as he senses the others watching him.
“Is he yours?” Leif asks.
“No, I just … I brought him from the ferry. His mom … well, you know …”
Leif nods with a grim look.
“Sit down and eat something,” Agnete tells Iver in a warm tone. “You must be starving.”
He is, but at the same time his stomach feels very tight. Probably because of the tense atmosphere in the room. He takes a seat by the only unused plate and helps himself to the bread and a slice of cheese.
“Since the rest of us have already been introduced,” Chris says, “I’ll just give you the skinny on Iver here. He’s never used a weapon before, but he claims he’s open to learning. He’s got a soft spot for the baby, as you might already have gathered. Oh, and he’s gay.”
Iver stops buttering his bread to look at Chris, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. That last piece of information was obviously aimed at Linda.
“Was that really essential information?” Iver asks, keeping his voice calm.
“Why?” Chris retorts with a sneer. “You ashamed of who you are?”
Iver shakes his head and continues smearing butter, muttering: “At least I’m not an asshole.”
“Right,” Chris goes on, pretending not to hear. “Let’s talk strategy, folks. We’re together now, whether we like it or not. I mean, you’re all free to leave anytime, of course, but I don’t assume anyone is interested in that? Especially since it means elbowing your way through our hordes of groupies out there, just dying to get an autograph. So, we need to make it work. We need some ground rules. We need to assign jobs and ranks.”
“Did you say something about serving in the military?” Linda asks, sending Leif a wry smile. “Because you sure sound like a drill
