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understands now what that guy was, and what he did to the ones still alive. Those men you rescued, they painted a pretty nasty picture for him. So I’d say Waters is relieved. I know I wouldn’t want a cannibal living here. In the end, Jake did the right thing killing that sick bastard. I know it, Steve knows it.” He sighed and shook his head. “Those kids…”
    I stayed quiet through Michael’s explanation, clamping down on the anger that had started flickering again. Of course Jake had been in the right. At times like this, the deal we had entered into with Waters really burned my ass. It had been the source of many arguments between Michael and me over the summer. Usually after supper when everyone had drifted off to do their own thing, or went off to the wall for watch duty, and the two of us ended up sitting on the porch. At first things would be fine. Comfortable and easy. We always seemed to part ways fighting about Waters. Stupid goddamn Waters.
    I tossed the brush on the bench next to me and led Daisy outside. Michael followed, thankfully not pestering me with any more questions. The bitter cold air stung my eyes as soon as Daisy and I stepped out the back door, so I quickly unhooked the strap and let her join the other horses in the pasture.
    “It’s getting colder.” I crossed my arms as tightly as I could. Michael grunted his agreement.
    “She doesn’t get along with the others, does she?” he asked after Daisy kicked at one of the mares for walking too close.
    “No, she doesn’t.”
    I grabbed the heavy door and pulled it closed, fastening it loosely, then turned and headed toward the house. Before we could leave the barn, Michael stopped, curled his hand around my elbow, and turned me to face him.
    “I know I messed up, Kasey. But you can still talk to me if you need to.”
    I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I had learned all too well that he was nothing if not honest.
    He’d convinced me of that and of many other things during our first days at Blueville Correctional, when he explained the corner he’d been forced into as a result of my group staying.
    “The Warden’s pissed because I let you folks stay here,” Michael had said. “He’s also pissed because you led that swarm straight to us. He could have his flunkies throw my ass out of here in the middle of the night and everyone else would be too afraid to stop it.”
    The night the prison had been overrun, Warden Harvel disappeared. Since then we’d suspected he’d been the one who’d compromised the fences, allowing the deadheads to lay siege, but we were never able to prove it. As time passed and he didn’t reappear, we all agreed he probably died. It was a thought that cheered us up on bad nights.
    Michael also had a habit of being too honest sometimes, and after one night in particular around the Fourth of July, his blunt honesty had placed a wedge between us. He wanted something I couldn’t give, or wouldn’t. The difference being such a small degree I didn’t waste much time thinking about it. Since then there had been an uncomfortable tension between us.
    “Yeah, I know,” I said and pulled free of his grip. We stood there staring at each other for a moment, then I continued on to the house, leaving him stewing in the barn.
     
    * * *
     
    “Welcome home!” Nancy said after I walked through the door.
    “Good to be back.”
    I hung my coat up and sat down on the bench to take off my boots. We’d rearranged the large foyer’s furniture during our stay to better suit our needs. Instead of a large statue of a naked lady and a plant of some kind situated on either side of the front door, there was now a coat rack and a bench with storage compartments built into the bottom and along the sides, and a rack specially made to hang wet gloves. I believe one of the kids made that.
    “Well, come on into the kitchen. I kept supper warm for you.”
    I grunted and let out a breath while straightening up. Why do hunting boots have so