The Dead Saga (Book 3): Odium III by Claire C. Riley Page A

to clear the fog from my head. However, I refused to tell her to quit chain-smoking in the room and risk looking like any more of a baby.
    I stood up, feeling a little better. Though my body was still running hot and cold, at least I could think straight.
    “Get up,” I said, pointing my gun at Deacon.
    He stood up without question, his jaw twitching in agitation, his dark eyes never leaving Nova’s. I looked between them and shook my head. Nova was clearly provoking him as best she could, possibly in the hopes that he would do something stupid like try to run so she could shoot him. She was itching to, that much was obvious. And I was kind of surprised that she hadn’t killed him anyway. There was no real reason to listen to me, and she knew I wouldn’t ever shoot her. Yet I guessed that my opinion mattered to her, and my opinion of her was the only thing keeping this guy alive at the moment.
    I went behind him and untied his hands, whispering in his ear not to try anything stupid as I struggled with Nova’s crazy knots. After five minutes of struggling and grunting in annoyance I looked over his shoulder and caught the attention of Nova, who had miraculously gotten some bubble gum from somewhere and was chewing it noisily, all the while still eyeing Deacon with disdain.
    “Dude? What the hell kind of knot is this? It’s like some crazy ninja knot!” I huffed.
    Nova snorted out a laugh but didn’t move.
    “Seriously, I can’t undo this. There’s some Harry Potter magic shit going on with these knots, I swear they’re getting tighter the more I pull on them.”
    “Use a knife and cut them off him. My hands are busy.” She raised her gun a little higher to show me—and possibly Deacon, though I doubt he had forgotten—that she still had him in the sights of her gun, and she smiled. If you could call it a smile.
    I pulled my knife out and began to cut through the ropes until Deacon’s hands finally fell to his sides. He pulled them up in front of him and rubbed the dry, red skin where the rope had scrubbed at the thin flesh on his wrists.
    “Show-and-tell time,” I said, coming to stand in front of him, my voice sounding harsher and crueler than I actually meant.
    He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it as he weighed up his choices, his eyes flitting from me to Nova and back to me before finally nodding in agreement.
    I walked by his side as we left the tent, Nova staying at the rear with her gun pointed at him.
    “Yo, Crazy Pants, are you coming?” I heard her shout to Joan.
    Outside the skies were clear for once: no dark rainclouds, no wind storms. The day was calm and mild, unlike my current thoughts, and I hoped that it was a sign of what I was walking toward.
    My thoughts, however, continuously veered toward why I was even doing this. Deacon was a murderer. He had killed a lot of innocent people: women, children—and yes, evil scientists too, but in theory they were trying to save the world. While I couldn’t condone what they did in any way, I also couldn’t condone the murder of people so easily. An eye for an eye had never been my motto.
    Plus, I pretty much knew from Deacon’s reaction what I was going to see when we got to Hilary and the baby. Yet I couldn’t stop myself. I had to see for myself. I had to prove to myself that there truly was no hope left in this world. No matter how much my heart had begun to believe that there was something good out there. That there was hope for mankind. For me. For everyone. What we were walking to would blow that theory away, and with it, my fractured soul would struggle to ever heal.
     

 
TWELVE.
     
    We drove in silence, Deacon tucked between me and Nova, and Crazy Pants—sorry— Joan in the back of the truck. Apparently she liked the fresh air. With each rev of the engine as we neared our destination, Deacon’s body grew more rigid and taut with anxiety until his anxiety was almost something palpable. Something you could reach