It's 9AM
The Gulf of Mexico at night is a sight to behold.
I remember going out deep sea fishing once, before this new world started.
We came back as dusk settled over the coast, and a million lights twinkled and danced brighter than the stars in the sky as it wheeled above us.
Even then, there were more stars than I had ever seen before, a million or more winking and blinking and flashing.
They were nothing compared to now.
Now, there were no lights to outline the coast.
"We can't go in the dark," Raymer said on the first night and I agreed.
If something was floating in the water, a derelict boat, or sandbar, we would be dead in the water.
Or prey to the things that lurked in the water.
We dropped anchor two hundred yards off shore, before it got too dark to go any further in the pitch black.
Then the stars came out.
Too many to count, too many to even fathom.
Vast swaths of them, painting swirls and constellations.
I never studied much more than Orion, and a few of the other, easier to find constellations.
But it was easy to imagine elders of old sitting up at night to watch the skies.
"Does it get easy to live with?"
Hannah spoke from the stairs behind me.
We were on a strict no light at night policy on the boat.
No need to advertise where we were or that we were out there to anyone who might be watching from the shore.
She was a dark spot near the stairs that led to the deck below.
"Which part?"
"I shot him," she gulped.
Her voice sounded small, and raw, like she had cried for too long and was out of tears.
"He might have hurt you," I said. "Might have hurt us."
"How many have you killed?"
Thousands of Z.
I almost told her.
Not quite as easy as slapping mosquitoes, but close.
I convinced myself they were no longer people.
Not anymore.
"I don't know," I lied.
I didn't know the exact number of real live people who were dead because of me now.
Men who tried to hurt me, tried to hurt the people I loved and cared about.
"A lot, right?"
She knew.
She had been there for some of it, watched it happen.
I bet she had heard about more because I had overheard whispered conversations when no one thought I was around.
"Yes."
"Will it get easier?" she gulped again.
"I hope not," I said. "Not for you. I hope you never have to do it again."
We stood in the silent darkness.
I could hear the murmur of voices below, kids and adults talking soft because voices carried over open water and because we were close to bed time.
"I hope so too," she agreed. "But I will."
No gulp this time.
A firmness to her voice, like steel wrapped in velvet.
"I would have to save him," she assured me.
I knew who she was talking about.
"I would to save anyone here. I will."
I don't think she was trying to convince me.
Or herself.
I think she was making a vow, or a pledge. At least that's how it felt.
Like a promise.
"I know," I told her and she sighed.
It didn't sound like a sad sigh, or one of those world weary exhalations we sometimes make when the pressure and stress builds up and there's just one way to let it go.
It felt like she was waiting for me to accept her promise and when I did, she was relieved.
I listened to the scuff of her shoe on the metal stairs, then she was gone and I was left alone under the stars.
It made it easy to see where the sky ended and the land began, and I watched the darkness until everyone else was asleep.
Do you think you could survive? Stay up all night swiping to find out what happens next. BATTLEFIELD Z - Complete Adventures
Where Lost Girls Go: A totally addictive mystery and suspense novel free