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Once the sunlight goes to bed, that's when darkness wakes the dead.
When a series of grisly deaths devastate 19th-century New England, sixteen-year-old farm girl Faith must outsmart the Undead to ke...
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I'm still watching the ocean when a voice pulls me out of my head. "We can leave," it says. "We can take my father's fishing boat and start over somewhere new."
Thomas crosses the beach, his boots crunching over sheets of ice and washed up seashells. At first I expect him to be joking, but his expression is sincere. He means it; every word. And he left church to come and find me.
Any anger I have toward him melts away. "What about our families? We can't leave them behind."
Through the cloud of our breath, his hazel eyes find mine and hold. "We'll take them with us."
"And go where?" The brilliant gray sky presses down on us. I squint through the glare at the line of boats along the docks. They bob erratically, their bulk fighting against the constant invasion of waves.
"Wherever we want. Europe, or South America. It doesn't matter as long as we're far away from here."
His suggestion turns over in my head. Constable Weber said it's true; the Undead are real. If bodies are rising from their graves in Rhode Island, they could be anywhere. They could be everywhere.
Still... It doesn't feel right.
An icy wind sails between us, collecting the top layer of fallen snow. The white mass spirals along the shore like a vortex before blowing away. I square my shoulders to his, unsure of what to say. Thomas leans in closer and brushes a piece of hair from my face, his fingers leaving tiny trails of heat.
My skin prickles over the intensity of his stare. "What do you think?" he asks. The tip of his nose is bright red.
Even if his father's boat were strong enough to brave a trip across the ocean, I can't imagine what it would be like to live in another country. How would we earn a living? Where would we call home? Could we even survive if we didn't understand the native language?
As always, Thomas knows what I'm thinking. "I'll take care of you. I promise."
My gaze turns to the water and I can't tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins. It blurs into an endless silver mass, making me feel incomprehensibly small. "What if they won't come with us?"
"Then we'll leave without them."
I reel back and face him, my cheeks warming as though they've been slapped. "I can't leave my father and brother. I promised Mama I'd watch out for them."
Thomas takes another step forward until he's standing very close. My stomach clenches as his hands swallow mine. "But I need to watch out for you."
He needs to watch out for me.
His eyes flash over my face as if he's trying to read my thoughts, but my mind is having a difficult time comprehending what he's said. An emotion I'm not familiar with swells in my chest as the lines of our friendship dim. I fold my lips tight, my head whirling at what this might mean.
