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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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A heavy thump jars me awake. My muscles clench, the ache in my joints refusing to let go. When I stretch my limbs, they spasm and twitch before snapping back to my body.
A chill shivers through me.
Wind whines around the living room windows, and a soft orange glow radiates from the stove, the logs burned down to ashes.
As my gaze slides across the room, the walls ripple like a mirage, creating a hazy wave in the fading light from outside. When I blink and rub my eyes, everything pops back into place.
The last thing I remember before settling into the rocker was coaxing more tea into Papa. His fever hasn't lifted. If anything, it's grown worse. His skin like an inferno, logic muddled like a creeping fog in his brain. As I tucked the covers around him, he called me by Mama's name.
Another thump. Closer now.
Dust spirals down from the ceiling, the particles lingering on the chilled air. My arms fold around me. Another wood panel must have come loose outside. Or maybe a shingle from the roof, peeling away from the house like strips of bark from a tree. Despite the temperature, a bead of sweat trails down the side of my face. My hair clings to forehead. I pull out my braids and let the soft waves fall around my shoulders.
It's late. How long have I been asleep?
Thomas said he'd bring Honor home, but they should be back by now. Shouldn't they? I hate to think about what could happen if they're caught roaming around after curfew. They're just boys; no danger to anyone but themselves. But the people in this town have lost their minds. If they don't return soon, I'll have to look for them myself. I won't know if they need help if I stay hidden inside this house all night. But if I'm caught, who knows what will happen to me—or to Papa.
Pushing the thought from my head, I pace the floor, sorting out a plan.
The last few embers crackle in the stove. I light the lantern and add two more logs to the ashes, praying they catch. We're running low on both timber and kerosene. Winter's been so cold and our supplies aren't lasting as long as they should. Tomorrow, I'll have to chop more wood and make a trip to the store.
My teeth pull at the inside of my cheek until the bitter taste of iron blossoms across my tongue. I glance out the window. An inky blackness devours the sky.
It's time.
Grabbing the lantern, I tiptoe to Papa's bedroom and crack the door open a fraction more. It groans against the hinges. Light illuminates the bed and the wheeze of breath rising and falling beneath the covers. He's sleeping soundly. If I leave now, I can make it back before he wakes.
Before I change my mind, I slip into my coat.
Taking one last look out the front window, my forehead presses against the frosted glass. Above the trees, the moon hides behind a wall of clouds and I'm barely able to see past the fence. Snow falls heavier now, crashing to the ground in sheets of white. If the boys were coming up the road, I'd never know it.
