So I sleep. I hibernate through the day and come out long after dinnertime. Long after I was supposed to meet up with Ryan.

“It’s time.”

I jerk my head up, surprised to find Alvarez standing in front of me. I hadn’t realized I was parked on a cot in a tent, staring into nothing. I stretch my aching back, shaking my head to clear it.

“Time for what?” I ask groggily. How am I still tired after sleeping all day long?

“The burial.”

I stand abruptly. “Nope.”

His eyebrows form a deep V of disapproval. “Excuse me?”

“No,” I tell him, swaying slightly. I feel lightheaded. Dizzy. “I’m not doing that.”

“No, but the rest of us are and you’re attending.”

“No, I’m not.”

“When did it sound like I was asking?”

“You can’t bully me into saying goodbye to him.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“Then what’s the point?”

He steps in close, crowding me. “The point is we’re honoring a man’s life. I don’t care how sad you are—”

“I’m not sad.”

“Or how unaffected you’re pretending to be. He was a great man, he treated you kindly, and you will show the proper respect for his passing. Now you will walk out of this tent tall, proud, and strong like the warrior he swore to me you were, or so help me God, I will send you on to meet him.”

I believe him. There’s a fire in his eyes that has never gone out, no matter what this world has shown him, and he’s directing it straight at me. Right into my skin until it burns with anger and embarrassment. And shame.

I step around him because he doesn’t give me an inch, then I walk slowly out of the tent. I do it tall, I do it proudly, but I feel anything but strong.

He follows me out, then leads me forward. We walk silently toward the shore where the sun is setting and the Colony is still burning and the zombies are still dining. And the sickness in my stomach gets worse.

Across the water is a madhouse. After the gate was blown and the Zs made their way inside to do their business and ours, the Vashons sealed it. They moved the street barricades and locked the survivors in with the infected. It’s part of the plan that was never openly talked about before. It’s a brutal move that I didn’t see coming and I’m still working out how I feel about it. I can’t tell if the horror and the hallow I feel inside is all from losing Crenshaw or if some of it has to do with the situation going on across the water.

I want to hate them. I want to think they’re getting what they deserve for all the years of slavery, sitting in their comfy compounds while the rest of us struggled and died trying to clear the world of the plague they preach about cleansing. But then I have to hate the Vashons a little for that too. For cleaning their own house and leaving the rest of us to die outside. They were hiding from the Colonies like the rest of us, sure, but they still closed their doors in people’s desperate faces.

Either way, I don’t think anyone is a hero here.

Standing near the water I spot Ali and Sam. Ryan and Trent are not far away from them. I see several familiar faces, several people I could easily go stand beside and wait out this ceremony that I don’t understand. That I feel too raw and scared to be part of.

I hang back, staying on the outside of the gathering.

“We’re ready,” Alvarez announces.

There’s a raft on the shore that’s covered in oily dark cloth. The body is there. The empty shell of nothing with Crenshaw’s beard and staff. Several Vashons, men and women both, wade into the water with it. Guiding it. They go up to their waists before letting it go. Then they cast it off, shoving it out toward the wide mouth of Lake Washington just outside the peninsula.

No one says anything. There’s not a sound aside from the water and the fire burning nearby.

When the raft is far out into the lake, Ali moves. She takes a bow from Sam, who lights the tip of an arrow for her. I watch her launch it, watch as it flies over the darkening sky before finding its home on the raft where it ignites immediately, the entire vessel going up in brilliant flames.

That’s it. That’s the end. Most people leave after that. What else is there to be done? These days you’re lucky if anyone remembers you, let alone buries you in any way. As far as the apocalypse goes, this was a very moving service.

Ryan and the boys leave eventually, all of them carefully pretending not to see me. It’s not long before everyone is gone.

Everyone but Ali and I.

I want to go but I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off the fire on the water. My feet are rooted to the ground, the same ground where miles from here rests a forest. A quiet place with a small earthen hut kept hidden from the wild like a mirage in the desert. I never realized how beautiful that spot really was until now. I never knew how truly magical Crenshaw had been, not until he was gone and he took his magic with him. He took his words and his wisdom and I’ll have to make it through this world without them. I’ll have to make do with what he taught me, with all the things he gave me. Things like my name.

Persephone and I stand by the shore together but separate. We wait until the night comes in completely, until the last ember slips silently under the surface.

We stay with him and we send him on the wind and the water to the next world because it’s our job.

We’re his warriors. His Valkyries.

His family.

Chapter Twenty Two

We’re back in the big tent. It’s the center of our circus and we’re coming to the last act. It’s the Grand Finale. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.

“Westbrook is across the lake. He’s in a mansion with several of his followers. It’s isolated. It’s not heavily guarded. They prepared for zombie attacks. Never an uprising.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to kill him.”

“Good plan.”

I watch blankly as Alvarez and Todd hash out the details. We’ll go in by boat, the same one the Vashons came over on that they’ve stored up north, out of sight. Only fifty of us will go. We’ll storm the building in teams. We’ll take it by force. No magic, no illusions, no lies.

We leave at dawn.

The room clears out. I stay behind, staring at the walls flapping lightly in the breeze. I don’t know how long I’m there alone, but I don’t have any desire to leave. I don’t have anywhere to go. Eventually it starts to rain.

“Do you live here now?”

I turn to see Trent standing in the doorway, his hair laying flat and wet against his head. It makes him look different. More human.

“Maybe,” I mutter, turning away.

He stays in the doorway behind me but I know he’s there. I can feel him because he wants me to feel him. He wants me to know he’s waiting.

“What?” I ask irritably.

“You tell me.”

“Tell you what, Trent?”

“What’s on your mind.”

I chuckle dryly. “Shouldn’t Ryan be doing this? He’s our ambassador, right?”

“He already tried. You shut him down.”

My stomach clenches with guilt.

“He says you need space,” Trent continues.

“He’s right. Bye.”

“I told him he’s wrong. I told him you need to talk to someone.”

“And you thought the right person for the job would be you?”

“I killed my dad.”

I spin around in my seat, my mouth falling open. “Why would you just blurt that out like that?!”

“To get your attention,” he replies calmly. He grins slightly. “Did it work?”

“You’re sick.”

“But you’re listening now, aren’t you?”

I face forward, leaning back in my seat. “Come sit down. I’ll strain my neck trying to look at you like that.”

He moves silently through the room, sitting down next to me like a ghost. We both face forward, staring at the wall of the tent. The ceiling is dripping a little in the corners where the water has managed to pool, but otherwise we’re safe and sound from the rain and wind outside.