Three months ago, he'd called me, thrilled, to tell me Muriel had proposed.
He begged me to come to the Bastion for the wedding.
I turned him down, told him I was too far away to make it in time.
The truth was, I'd spent every single one of those three months walking, pushing myself to the limit day after day, until I finally reached the walls of the Bastion today.
Just in time to witness them using a human being as bait to lure zombies.
The next second, a dagger plunged deep into flesh.
And the one who drove it in was my brother's fiancée. Muriel Maxwell.
He let out a piercing, bloodcurdling scream.
That voice. It was identical to my brother's.
The relief I'd barely allowed myself vanished, replaced by a dread that seized me by the throat.
His abdomen.
My gaze snapped to his stomach.
His frame was gaunt, wasted thin, but his belly was grotesquely swollen.
As if...
There was a baby strapped to him.
My brother had told me, beaming with joy, that Muriel was carrying his child. That I was going to be an uncle.
But up on the wall, Muriel's stomach was flat. Not a trace of pregnancy.
So where was the baby?
How could this be a coincidence?
My heart clenched again, tighter this time.
He'd endured everything else in silence. But now he screamed.
He was protecting his child.
He was wailing for his child.
What terrified me even more was this:
That scream had actually caused several low-rank zombies to break free of my suppression and bolt from the ruins.
The next instant, arrows punched through the backs of their skulls.
My entire body trembled. I felt like I'd been plunged into an ice bath.
He really could command zombies.
I threw caution aside, no longer caring if I was exposed, and wove through the rubble toward the gate.
I needed to see that man's face. Every detail of it.
Then, as if he sensed something, the man jerked his head up.
His eyes locked onto mine with surgical precision as I moved through the ruins.
One look. That was all it took. His entire body convulsed, thrashing with the wild desperation of a man possessed.
He nearly tore free.
Over a dozen soldiers threw their weight against the crane, shouting:
"Has he lost his mind? How is he fighting this hard? The whole crane's about to tip!"
"Good thing Commander Maxwell stuck that blade in when she did. One clean hit! I was worried it wouldn't be enough!"
"If it's not enough, just cut the thing off his belly and toss it down. More bait for the horde!"
The man's mouth gaped open. From his hollow, ruined throat came a ragged, guttural wail.
Blood streaked from both his eyes like crimson tears.
And in those eyes, so like mine, I saw it all.
Joy.
Longing.
Regret.
And sorrow.
My heart felt like a fist had closed around it and squeezed until I couldn't breathe.
I ran. Fled hundreds of yards back into the ruins.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I placed a video call to my brother inside the Bastion.
This time, it rang for over a minute before someone picked up.
A handsome face filled the screen. I spoke immediately:
"Do you know about the bait operation at the front gate?"
"Wait, are you outside the Bastion?"
I didn't answer. I pressed on:
"Where are you right now?"
"I'm at a tailor's, trying on suits. You're acting strange. Are you outside the Bastion?"
He asked the question a second time.
This time, I hung up.
I raised my head, eyes sharp as a hawk's, tracking every movement on the wall.
Up on the rampart, the squad leader beside Muriel pocketed a phone and leaned in close to whisper something in her ear. Far too close.
Closer than any professional distance would allow. I filed that away.
The next second, Muriel wrenched the dagger from his abdomen in one clean motion.
Then drove it in again. Hard.
She didn't stop there.
The blade twisted. The wet, grinding crack of something breaking made every hair on every neck stand on end.
Where the blade carved, flesh split open in a burst.
The bait's body lurched downward.
The stench of blood flooded the air again, so thick it was nearly enough to make a person retch.
