Wake of the Dead | One

Chapter thirty-one

Walking beside his cousin again was a feeling Killian hoped would never end. His heart was ready to burst, he hadn't felt this elated ever since the world went to shit—well, maybe except for the time he spent with Jasper. Those moment could be pretty heartwarming within themselves. But it was a different kind of heartwarming that Killian couldn't quite figure out yet.

That feeling was foreign. The way his chest seemed to suddenly fill with butterflies, the inexplicable heat on his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of Jasper's muscles, the sudden urge to be closer to the other man whenever he wore that stupid grin of his. It was a feeling he didn't understand, but not a bad one. Just a confusing one.

Some of Killian's old gang were here as well. Nora, an old friend of his, walked beside him and Jackson. She had short-cropped black hair, messy and boyish; arms and neck covered with tattoos, a gun strapped to her ripped-up jeans. Nora was one of the only gang members who Killian trusted with his life.

There was a difference from being in a gang together and having a close bond with somebody, two of which almost never coincided well. Attachments were what got you killed. Sure, most interactions were relatively friendly and they could have their kind moments, but any sign of weakness that could make you a liability would land you in a world of pain. It had happened to him on multiple occasions.

The other two that Killian knew well were Diego, Amel, and Mason. Killian knew Diego almost as well as Nora—he also knew that Diego shot a man point-blank between the eyes for calling his bluff and gotten away with it. Amel and Mason were both older than Killian by two or more years, but that most of everything he knew about them. The gang's old leader—Silas—hadn't made it out of the city.

Despite the violence that was common in the gang, Killian felt safe with them. He knew the rules, the basic unspoken pecking order, how honor earned you respect. He knew the ins and outs, unlike the unpredictable structure of Tom's group.

After a while of weaving them through the small town, Renier reached a large shopping center. There was a clothing store, a grocery store, and a few more insignificant things Killian could care less about. Abandoned cars were left in the lot just like the motel, shopping carts left unattended. Biters shambled along aimlessly, but one thing took Killian by surprise and chilled him to his bones; some biters were eating the corpse of a much smaller biter.

The group was tucked away in an alleyway across the road from the shopping center lot. Killian knew he couldn't have been the only one to catch sight of the biters gnawing on one of their own. Were they eating the dead now too?

Diego was completely silent beside him, the man's eyes narrowing gradually. The dragon tattoo on his neck seemed to move along with him when he nodded to Renier, "Do you s-"

Their leader interrupted him, "How could I not? Doesn't matter, they'll be dead soon anyways." Renier's sharp green eyes flickered to the side at Tom, "Can your people work with mine?"

Nodding, Tom was idly staring at each of the biters in turn. Killian could vividly imagine the gears turning in his mind, assessing every minute detail and working out a strategy. The largest group of biters were concentrated around the clothing store—exactly where he wanted his people to be. Killian was just fine with Jasper's jacket around him, but he could see the shudders running down the rest of the group's spines.

Their rivals were already clothed well for winter, not minding one bit whenever a sharp gust of freezing wind rushed past them. Alongside Killian, Casimir, Wilson, Dominick and Samantha had accompanied Tom. Renier had brought his right-hand, Jeremiah, Jackson, Nora, Diego, and Mason. Overall the group was large; taking out the biters with a good strategy wouldn't be too difficult.