Read The Wasteland Soldier, Book 3, Drums Of War (TWS) for Free Online Page B

left side of his face was gone; merely folds of blackened skin. She stared numbly at what little remained of her brother, gritting her teeth and taking sharp breaths. She had come to terms with none of the past few weeks.
    His mess filled her nostrils. He mumbled as she put on the water. She set out clean clothes and slowly unwound his blankets. She could hear a boy screaming in the distance but ignored it. Once the water had boiled she stripped and bathed him, her hands carefully gliding over his ruined body. She was silent and methodical as she worked. The fire had destroyed little of the Holy House. It had consumed nearly all of Daniel.
    She dressed him and lay him down on the bed. She put the soiled clothes in a basket and put the basket in the garden. She took a hard bristle brush to his chair and scrubbed it furiously until the odour had faded. He talked as she worked but she ignored him. Finished, she bathed her hands. Waves of sickness swirled in the pit of her stomach and she buried her damps hands in her long thick hair, digging her nails hard into her scalp. The pain held back the tears. She had not cried since childhood. She would not cry in womanhood.
    “I’m hungry,” he mumbled.
    She put on soup and fetched a tray, a bowl, a spoon and a half-loaf of dried bread from the pantry cupboard.
    Outside, the wind stirred and the rain tapped against the old stone walls of the cottage. She nudged open a shutter. Deacon Rush and Father Devon were on the steps of the Holy House, making the sign of the cross as they bade farewell to the congregation.
    The soup began to bubble.
    “Where is she?”
    His voice was croaky, she could barely hear him. She sat him up and tied a cloth around his neck. “Where’s my little girl gone?”
    “Clarissa’s dead. Do you remember, Daniel? She was sick and she died. You buried her in the grounds of the Holy House.”
    Quinn set the tray across his lap. His right eye blinked at her. She saw the flicker of flames in his pupil.
    “Why are you here? Where’s Lissa?”
    She fed him. Some of the vegetables trickled from his lips onto the cloth. She broke off a piece of bread, soaked it and pushed it into his mouth. He chewed, laboriously, his tongue forcing the hunk of bread against his teeth. He swallowed and stared for a moment and Quinn saw a sudden flash of recognition in his only working eye.
    “Annie?”
    “Don’t call me that,” she said, poking him. “You know I hate that name.”
    “Quinn. Always Quinn.”
    There was a sharp knock at the door. Daniel tilted his head in anticipation. A half-smile spread across his moist lips.
    “Lissa?”
    “She’s dead,” said Quinn, rising from the bed. “You know that.”
    Daniel nodded.
    “I know that.”
    It was Jeremy, babbling excitedly about the Munton’s botched raid on the village. She hushed him and told him to fetch a bowl if he was hungry. She settled back down with her brother but his hunger had waned and he shook his head as she raised the spoon. Jeremy noisily rooted out a clean bowl from the pantry cupboard. He stood beside the fire, feeling the warmth seep through his damp clothes and cold bones. It had been freezing inside the Holy House. And it was supposed to be summer.
    He spooned in a large helping and began to tuck in, eating on his feet, talking incessantly. Quinn cleared away Daniel’s lunch and left him on the bed for the time being before dragging his chair from the window and planting it in the middle of the cluttered and gloomy room.
    “Daniel,” she said, talking slowly. “I need to go away for a few days. Do you understand me?”
    His single eye blinked at her.
    “Jeremy will be stopping by to feed you. You’re all clean now. Remember to use the bucket when you need to piss and shit. Do you hear me, Daniel? I won’t be here to bathe you so use the bucket. Leave it outside and Jeremy will empty it for you.”
    Daniel groaned, shaking his head.
    “You can manage that. You’re not an invalid. You