Free Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1) by Tracey Ward Page A

not?”
    “Because I don’t want to have to deal with keeping you safe out there. Stay here. Lock the doors and gates behind me.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “To see Marlow.”
    She blinks, surprised. “Are you really going to go to work for him?”
    “I don’t know yet. I’ve gotta get out there and see what’s happening.”
    “Are you coming back?”
    I take a step back from her. “I don’t know.”
    “Yes, you do,” she challenges with a small smile. “But you’re punishing me. You’re making me sweat.”
    “Are you feeling sweaty?”
    “A little.”
    I raise a disbelieving eyebrow at her.
    “Okay, fine,” she cries, throwing her hands in the air. “A lot. I’m sweating balls over here. Please, oh great and powerful Vin, don’t leave me here alone forever.”
    “Don’t let anyone in,” I warn her. “Only me.”
    “Yes.”
    “Sin.”
    “I hear you! No one but you.”
    I step forward and touch her shoulder, gently pulling her out of the way. “I’ll be gone most of the day. Maybe until tomorrow. Sleep with the gun. Keep the doors closed and locked.”
    “Okay. Be safe,” she calls after me.
    “Be smart!” I shout back.

Chapter Eight
    Trent
    This is stupid. It’s a stupid mistake and Dad was so convinced I don’t make stupid mistakes, but this is a big one. Running into the woods in the dark without a light or a plan is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t avoid it. I can’t sit in the cabin and wait with the screaming for the sun to come up, a sun that might never rise. This feels like the longest night of my life as I sprint across the mud, through the rain, and into the heavy darkness to look for my dad or what might be left of him. Every shadow is a threat or a heartbreak, a zombie or a body, and if there’s one thing I understand about tonight it’s this: nothing good will come of it.
    I follow the road that winds around the trees instead of running straight through them toward the Farm. Going through the woods would be faster but Dad took the truck and if he comes up the road heading home I don’t want to miss him. I lose my sense of time as I run, landmarks lost in the wet and the dark and I can’t tell how close or far I am from the dirt path leading up to the gates of the colony. Then suddenly there’s a light. It’s too soon to be a light from the Farm, I know that much, and I almost drop to the ground in relief when I realize what it is.
    The single headlight of our beat up pickup truck.
    I run harder, digging my feet into the slippery mud and nearly losing my balance twice. I keep upright and rush to the rusting blue bucket, crashing into the hood and searching through the windshield into the cabin. My eyes try to adjust to being out of the light, but I can’t see anything. It’s pure black inside the cabin. It’s empty.
    “Trent?”
    My dad steps around from behind the truck and comes up the side, his face surprised and confused.
    “Dad,” I breathe in relief. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. What are you doing out here?”
    “You took forever getting back. I got worried.”
    “You should have stayed home like I told you.”
    “The Farm is dead.”
    He pauses, watching me. “You went to the Farm too?”
    “No. Someone called on the radio. I could hardly understand them but they were under attack.”
    “What’d they say?”
    “They said Death was there. Death and the Devil.”
    “What?”
    “That’s what they said.” I swallow hard, not eager to remember the sound that’s still ringing in my ears. “Then they screamed. It was… they’re dead.”
    Dad reaches out and hugs me to him. He holds me tightly and it feels desperate. He feels afraid. “We’ll go there tomorrow,” he tells me, but it sounds like he’s really telling himself. “We’ll bury the bodies.”
    I pull back from the hug and shake my head. “What if there are still zombies?”
    “They aren’t zombies, Trent.”
    “You keep saying that but you don’t