DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 8, SECTION 1

Part 8: Hot

Pretty much all I could see was a narrow field, covered in snow, tucked between a pair of hills where the mountains flattened out toward the plains.

I adjusted my binoculars. 

At the field's far edge, a barn came into focus. It was old, tilting slightly. Abandoned.

I couldn't spot anything else. Or anyone. Just an empty field beneath a gray sky.

I was pretty sure I'd seen something move, though, just as I'd ridden around the bend.

I nudged Kaypay forward. The snow was deeper on the north side of the ridge. But by this late in the winter, my sister's horse had weathered much worse. She trudged forward stoically.

"Ashley!" Chris's voice echoed from up the trail. "Steak! Fresh steak! Cooked to order! A hot meal. Come on. Ed's gonna worry. And I'm starving. Seriously. Literally starving. I swear to God I'm gonna Donner-party your ass if you don't pick it up."

There was another flash of movement. Just beyond the distant barn. I was sure of it this time. And now that I'd rounded the bend and reached Chris, I had a better vantage point.

"I saw something." I stopped Kaypay and raised the binoculars again.

"Probably just a stage three," Chris said. "I'm sure at least some of them have found shelter somewhere."

It had been a cold winter. The last time I'd seen any stage-three positives had been during an earlier supply run, more than a month ago. They'd already expired, though: a couple of teens, frozen to death, locked in an icy embrace at the lookout above town.

But the movement I'd seen in the distance below wasn't the stilted lurching of a stage three. I wanted to make sure what I'd spotted wasn't a Home Guard ranger on patrol. I was as hungry and cold as Chris, but the last thing I wanted was an ambush.

"Just hold up a second," I told him.

I trained the binoculars just beyond the barn. I still couldn't spot whatever I'd seen moving. But from this angle, the portion of the field east of the barn was much better visible.

Low mounds of what looked like soil, seven of them, were scattered through the field. They stood out like black pyramids against the white of the snow.

Then, suddenly, I spotted the same movement that had caught my eye earlier. At the base of the nearest mound, I could see now, someone had dug a hole. Soil leapt up from inside, then landed atop the mound.

Someone was digging graves.

I watched as whoever it was tossed a shovel out onto the mound, put a gloved hand on the hole's rim, and pulled himself out. From this distance, more than a mile, it was impossible to tell who it was. I sharpened the binocular's focus. But all I could make out was a man, panting from exertion, wearing a hooded parka. He was filthy. It looked like he hadn't changed his clothes in weeks. Stuffing trailed from his parka at one of the threadbare elbows. 

Before he'd caught his breath, he knelt and reached down into the grave. . .

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Oh my god, it actually feels really comforting to be writing this book again! It's kind of a much-needed escape. I feel like Ashley and I really need each other about right now. And I've missed Chris! Hope you like it! Enjoy!

xxBailey