And I do encounter a few of them. They are eerily silent as they prowl the roads. Only once does one come tearing out of a nearby field, the sound of the wild grass my only warning. Luckily, my bike is faster than even the quickest corpse, and the night cloaks my identity.
Each time I get away, I’m plagued by uncertainties: Does Death know where I am? Have I truly escaped him?
It doesn’t feel likely.
The only bright side of the dead now walking is that they’ve left the homes they died in. I never stay long, nor do I ever sleep long. And my riding buddy is a surprisingly good sport about the whole ordeal.
More than once, I find myself staring at him curiously.
How did you survive? Are you really like me?
It would be really, really helpful if he was. Then I wouldn’t have to run from the horseman. But there’s no way of truly knowing. Not unless something catastrophic happens. And personally, the world has endured enough catastrophes as it is. I’m not interested in manifesting another just to test some theory.
So I fear and panic and travel, travel, travel.
At some point, the cities full of dead give way to cities full of living. Even then I ride on, looking for a place that’s far enough away from Death that I don’t hear whispers of the horseman. I still can’t shake the tendril of unease that I feel, like somehow, the nightmare isn’t over. But I push that thought from my mind; the days are hard enough as it is without worrying about the future.
It takes a small eternity full of crying babies and minor meltdowns （mine, not Ben’s） but eventually, we get to Alexandria, Louisiana, a city that just feels safe.
So there we linger. I’ve lifted enough money along the way to rent out a small house and get ourselves settled. Only then am I able to breathe a sigh of relief.
I glance down at the boy on my hip.
“We did it, Ben,” I say softly. “We escaped Death.”
Chapter 30
Alexandria, Louisiana
April, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and I fall into a routine. Somewhere in there, Ben goes from being someone else’s son to my own.
A part of me hates how easily I set aside my purpose, how willing I was to abandon my cause the moment I stumbled across a tiny human who needed help. But then, I look at Ben and I can’t find it within me to regret my actions. The world will just have to take care of itself for now.
I find a doula to apprentice for, one who doesn’t mind having a baby join us for our house calls, and life begins to feel normal.
Until, of course, it doesn’t.
I wake in the dead of night, my eyes snapping open. At first I think it’s Ben that’s woken me, but then I notice that dreaded stillness. The one I’ve become all too familiar with over the last year.
He found us.
I suck in a breath.
Ben.
I trip over to his crib. I can barely see in the darkness, but he’s too still and I’m so afraid—
I reach in and grab him and I have to swallow my sob when I hear his deep inhalation and feel his body move.
He’s alive. The relief that floods my system nearly brings me to my knees. But even it is short-lived.
Run, Lazarus!
If Death isn’t here yet, then he will be soon. Maybe Ben is impervious to him, but maybe I just got lucky and sensed the horseman before he’s struck this town.
I grab the baby harness I bought last month and force my shaking hands to strap it onto me before securing a fussy Ben into it. All of it happens in a panic-fueled daze.
Grab the bug out bag. I’ve kept one for this very occasion. I snag it from the hook it hangs on and, slinging it over my back, I rush out into the chilly evening air.
I grab my bicycle, then hop on.
Please have time. Please all be in my head. I alternate chants, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
I don’t know which way to go; however, down the road I hear a dog yipping. I head towards the noise, panic seizing up my lungs. Five houses down, I hear the dog banging against a rotted wood gate, still baying. Riding all the way up to the gate, I grab the latch, then pause, readying myself.
I glance down at Ben, who has grown quiet as he peers around us.
“We got this, Ben,” I say to him, more for my own sake than his. “Neither of us is meeting Death tonight.”
I unlatch the gate and set the dog free. The creature immediately bolts down the street, and I ride after it. It tears through yards, cuts corners and plows through bushes and several times I’m sure I’m going to lose sight of the thing. But somehow, I manage to stay on the dog’s trail. The whole thing is a blur of adrenaline and instinct. But by the time the sun rises, Alexandria is far behind us and Ben is still alive.