Hearth | The Walking Dead

𝐈𝐈. WAITING GAME

CHAPTER TWO

WAITING GAME

FRANK AND MARTHA TURNER WERE buried at dawn. It was only an hour after the twins had finally calmed down enough to fall asleep; Ellen insisted on staying with them, refusing to see the bodies of her parents, so Sydney volunteered to go into the backyard with Abraham to bury them. There hadn't been a word of protest, though there was a disapproving frown on Ellen's face when Abraham handed Sydney a shovel instead of trying to talk her into staying. But Ellen really should have known better than to keep Sydney away from her dad in a time of crisis.

"Where are we gonna go?" Sydney asked as she watched Abraham shovel a 3-foot hole in the ground. Frank and Martha were covered by matching pale pink sheets decorated with embroidered daisies, laying side-by-side on the porch. Becca had chosen the sheets, murmuring to Sydney that Grandma had loved the hand-made quality.

"We'll stay here until the supplies run out," Abraham said, hauling more dirt out of the hole. "Don't just stand there, either, get to work." He reached over to tap the handle of the shovel that was nearly half as tall as Sydney. Sydney tore her eyes away from the sheet-covered bodies and began to dig a hole next to the one Abraham was making, figuring her grandparents would want to be buried together—even if Martha had killed Frank in the end.

"Did you know they were infected before we got here?" Sydney asked.

Abraham was quiet. For a moment, Sydney figured she wouldn't get an answer, but then he sighed. "Your mom and I had a feeling. That's why we wanted you outside with us." He glanced up, meeting Sydney's eyes as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. "You could have died. Do you understand that?"

Sydney gave a short nod, feeling her stomach turn. It almost felt like she was anxious instead of afraid, but Sydney figured she didn't know what it was like to be scared. She'd never had to be—her biggest fear up until now had been finding a snake under her bed, formed after they'd found one living in the roof above Becca's bed. And now she had to fear her family turning into . . . whatever now happened to people when they died. She had to fear being killed by her own siblings if they died and lost themselves to whatever sickness flowed through the bodies of the dead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but Abraham had already gone back to digging.

Sydney tried to match the depth that Abraham dug, but five minutes in and her arms were burning. Abraham let her go inside to fetch them both water bottles, both of them knowing it was just to give Sydney a break. Sydney suspected that by the time she was back outside, Abraham would have both graves dug and ready.

Ellen was sitting at the dining room table, nursing a mug of coffee as she looked out the window, a frown pulling at her lips. Sydney hesitated as she grabbed the bottles, both chilled by the fridge, before she set them on the table and walked behind her mother, letting herself drape her arms around Ellen's shoulders in a hug. Ellen looked up at Sydney and smiled sadly, reaching to pat Sydney's arm.

"I hope your dad isn't being too harsh," Ellen commented, turning her head to stare at the window once more.

Sydney shrugged, resting her chin on Ellen's head. "I'm okay." She frowned. "I'm sorry about Grandma and Grandpa."

Ellen sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. "It's alright, Bud. I'm sorry you had to see them like that."

Sydney closed her eyes momentarily, remembering her grandma's face as the older woman had attacked her. She had been completely dead behind the eyes, a striking difference from when she was alive. The smell of decay was still coming from the master bedroom, permeating the surrounding air. Sydney didn't know if she would get that smell out of her nose.