“Hey,” Steve said, pushing his way into the room. As always, Dakota closed the door behind him. “Where’s Jamie?”
“On guard duty.”
“So you’re here alone then?”
“Of course,” Dakota chuckled. “Who else would be in here?”
Steve shook his head. He cast a glance at the candle lantern burning on the bedside table, then crossed the room to the windows, where he looked out at the park in the distance. Contrary to his initial entrance, he didn’t move from his spot once he settled himself in place.
“Steve?” Dakota asked. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve been sneaking around, Dakota.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?”
It didn’t take much thought. “Kirn and Wills?”
“Who else would be sneaking around the place at night for absolutely no reason at all?”
“There’s bathrooms on this floor,” Dakota offered. “Are you sure it’s them, Steve, because there’s a lot of us here.”
“It’s them. Alexis tipped me off.”
“She did?”
“Uh huh. Told me she heard them talking about ‘something suspicious’ in the corporal’s room.”
“Shit,” Dakota sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Shit is right, Dakota. I told you this would happen.”
“That was before the sergeant died.”
“I get it. No need to tell me.”
“Me and Jamie talked about this this morning.”
“And?”
“He said that he understands why it’s not a good idea for us to reveal our relationship to anyone.”
“Most everyone here already knows,” Steve said. “Other than Michael, Dustin, Desmond and the two deputies. It’s bound to get out eventually.”
“Jamie’s trying to do damage control.”
“He’s going to do more damage than actual control if he doesn’t come out already.”
Sighing, Dakota sat down on the bed and set his hands on his knees, watching his friend pace back and forth between the row of windows against the wall. He wanted Steve to say something—anything—to help ease his troubled conscience, but already knew he wouldn’t unless absolutely necessary.
So…do I ask?
He didn’t see any harm in doing so.
Dakota pushed himself off the bed, made his way to his friend’s side, and put a hand on his arm. “What do you think I should do?”
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide how honest you want to be about who you are. I can tell you’re not ashamed of it—because when you came out to me two years ago, you did it in a very straightforward way—but I can understand why you wouldn’t want to.”
“It’s crosshairs on his back if I do.”
“I know.” Steve paused, then rubbed his chin. His brow furrowed a moment after. “You said you already talked to him about it, right?”
“Yep.”
“And he’s on the fence about it because he doesn’t want to cause problems, right?”
“Right.”
“But Kirn and Wills seem to be the only problem. Why doesn’t he just can them if they start causing problems?”
“I hate to say it, but I think he needs them.”
“Probably.” Steve clapped a hand across Dakota’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried about this, but it’s not going to do either of you any good if you butt heads over this. Let him come around—it’ll be easier than forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
“Yeah,” Dakota sighed. “I already found that out.”
Two hours later, long after the lantern had been blown out and the clock struck midnight, Jamie slid into bed. First startled, thinking that someone had snuck into the room, Dakota lashed out and struck him in the chest, then stumbled back and out of the bed in a tangle of blankets.
“Shit,” the older man said, voice tinged with humor. “I didn’t know you were so jumpy.”
“Neither did I,” Dakota said, grimacing. He tore himself free of the bedding and stood. “I thought I would hear you come in.”
“The door’s not very quiet.”
“That’s my point.”
Shrugging, Jamie reached forward and began to help Dakota remake the bed. In almost-pure darkness, it was hard to tell what exactly they were doing, but they managed to get the bed made in a somewhat-organized state before they both collapsed onto it.
“How was your watch?” Dakota asked, sighing when Jamie settled the blankets over both of them.
“It was ok.”
“Is it still raining?”
“Drizzling, if that counts.” Jamie set an arm over his side. “Sorry I scared you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“You know you can.”
Dakota sat up. Though Jamie remained on his side, Dakota could tell he was being watched. He could feel the man’s eyes boring into his soul like a cat clinging to his arm. It didn’t hurt, because the cat’s claws weren’t out and its teeth weren’t sinking into his wrist, but the added pressure was enough to make him feel uncomfortable.
Let him come around—it’ll be easier than forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do.
Good old Steve, always knowing the right thing to say.
“Do you remember what we talked about this morning?” he asked. “Did you think about anything I said?”
“I did,” Jamie said.
“And?”
“I still don’t think we should say anything about it yet.”
Dakota nodded. He settled back down beside Jamie and drew up close to his side.
“You’re not disappointed in me, are you?”
“No,” Dakota whispered. “Of course I’m not.”
He reached down, laced their fingers together, and took the breath he’d so desperately been wanting to take.
He’ll come around, Steve had said.
He sure hoped so.
“They’re getting closer,” Dakota mumbled.
The mob had begun to accumulate in front of the asylum over the past few days. Driven from Arcburrow’s vacant market district most likely by sleet and rain, they’d first shambled down the stretch of road that led to the interstate, then detoured onto the path that led to Saint David’s Ward and the other few measly stores that dared to propagate in the face of insanity. It seemed pointless for them to travel in this general direction, given the lack of human activity, but for whatever reason, they stepped foot onto the road and didn’t stop walking.
Upon entering the jagged, indirect path, they’d quickly become trapped by the manmade roadblock constructed by cars and other debris. Unable to move forward, they’d simply remained in place. As such, they hadn’t left.
They won’t leave, Dakota thought. There’s no reason for them to.
Standing amidst the tattered display of death and destruction, Dakota slid his hands into his pockets and watched Jamie light a cigarette. His hand up, then over, the click of a zippo sounded in his ears before the scent of smoke drifted into his nose.
In the parking lot below, a zombie dressed as Santa Clause looked up.
“It heard you,” Dakota whispered, gesturing Jamie to settle down in one of two chairs in the eastern watch tower.
“I noticed,” Jamie chuckled, then, in a sing-songy voice, added, “He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake.”
“More like he knows where you are breathing,” Dakota said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Heh. I guess it’d be funnier if we didn’t have to worry about them breaking in.”
“They’re not gonna break in, Dakota. We’ll lure them off just like we always do.”
“There’s getting to be too many, Jamie. You can’t expect our tricks to work forever.”