Hearth | The Walking Dead

𝐈𝐗. CRYING OUT

CHAPTER NINE

CRYING OUT

AT THE END OF WEEK five, something changed.

No one could have predicted it.

Walking with a group of people slowed the journey; not by a lot, but enough for Abraham to protest about the amount of breaks they took. Even when the sun began to set and the Rotters became more frequent, Abraham would insist they kept moving—but would fall into line with the rest of them when everyone else decided it was time to find a place to rest for the night.

Josephine found a place for them this time: the Louisiana State Museum.

According to the pamphlets scattered across the road, it was founded in 1904 and housed thousands of works of art and artifacts. The building was visible from two miles away; its name was printed across the top in small letters that Sydney strained her eyes to see. A two-story brick building with grey paint peeling from sun exposure; almost green in the fading sunlight. It looked like a house, too; something Sydney's family might have lived in they had a lot more money.

"Think it's safe?" Stephanie asked.

"No," Rosita admitted. "So the kids stay outside while we clear it."

"I'm literally eighteen," Dirk deadpanned.

"I don't see a birth certificate," Sydney sang. He glared at her, but there was no fire in his eyes this time. Progress?

Stephanie, Sydney, Dirk, and Rex stood outside the doors to guard the supplies while the adults went in to make sure it was safe. Sydney looked through the museum's pamphlet as they waited. "This isn't even the museum," she discovered. "It's called The Presbytere and it's a property of the museum!"

"So no artwork?" Rex wondered. Sydney shrugged, looking up at the building for a moment. The words Louisiana State Museum were written along the top, but it made no sense for that to be the case of a) this wasn't the museum, and b) the building was named something completely different.

"'It's one of the nation's best examples of formal colonial Spanish architecture.'" Sydney read. "'Built in 1813.' It's older than the museum that owns it," she mused.

"I thought we were done with school when the world ended," Stephanie complained, grinning when Rex elbowed her. Sydney huffed, folding up the pamphlet and stuffing it in the pocket of her jacket—well, Dirk's jacket, which he still hadn't asked for. He seemed content to wear the one they'd found in that neighborhood, so she supposed it was no loss on his part. Besides, it was warm enough for night and light enough for when the sun was out. Plus, it fit her just nicely.

The door opened and Josiah poked his head out. "Hold these open? The place is clear. Seems like whoever took over got bit and took himself out to save us the trouble. Just gotta move his body."

Res and Dirk held the doors open while Warren and Josiah carried the corpse outside. Sydney adverted her eyes, taking an interest in the nature that was slowly retaking the building. A wall of vines snaked their way up the walls; Sydney plucked a white flower from the stem and set it on the ground, a quiet tribute to the man who had killed himself to protect whoever came across the Presbytere next.

"We good to go?" Stephanie asked. Warren nodded to her. The four teens gathered the supplies and headed inside. They walked through the entrance hall—a long walk through the building with doors branching into other places—and into a room.