“Yeah, sorry. I’m June. It’s been a bizarre twenty-four hours.”
“I’d like to hear about it. But to answer your question, those earthquakes a few months back created an opening to an underground cave system that had been sealed away for thousands of years. The dogs with the glowing red eyes? We call them hellhounds. They came out first. They’re the cause of all the infected undead running around.”
“And the fey?”
“They were down in those caves all that time. They have no memory of humans or women and children. When the fey came to the surface, they were met with fear and gunfire. Did they kill some of us? Yes. Can’t say that I blame them, though. We had to be just as unusual to them as they were to us. I would say terrifying, but I doubt that. Not when they’d lived in those caves with the hellhounds for thousands of years.”
I tried to wrap my head around what Matt was saying, but it sounded like a bunch of fictional nonsense. Yet, I had no other explanation for their existence.
“And to answer the second part of your question, they’re helping us for two reasons. They know they’re our only chance of survival, and there’s nothing for them in those caves. Now, tell me how you ended up here.”
I’d just gotten to the part where the infected drove the horses into the barn when the door to the bathroom suddenly opened, and a very wet Adam strode out with a towel around his waist. Brog followed him toward us.
“He was repeating everything you two said while the door was closed and the water was running,” Adam said. “Caves? Hellhounds? Is that true?”
Matt nodded, and Adam looked back at Brog.
“Impressive.”
Brog looked at Matt.
“He has no bites.”
“Yeah, he checked,” Adam said. “That’s a little invasive.”
Matt chuckled, thanked Brog, and waited for the fey to leave before speaking again.
“The fey don’t have our same hang-ups about privacy. Keep that in mind if you ever go out on a supply run with them. They’ll strip down whenever and wherever to clean up. They know how few of us humans are left and don’t want to accidentally contaminate us with infected blood.”
“I appreciate the consideration,” Adam said, coming to wrap his arms around me. I could tell by the way he moved that he was hurting badly.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and turned to look at Matt.
“Before we tell you anything else, I’d like to know what happened to all our supplies.”
“They’re unloading them now,” Matt said.
Adam looked at the door and raised an eyebrow.
“We have a storage shed for all supplies the fey bring back each run. We keep thirty percent, and they take seventy for doing all the hard work.”
“Those were our supplies. The hard work was ours. I’m not heartless. I was out when the work was being done to clear our place, and I’m willing to share a little for the help we were given, but thirty percent is out of the question.”
Matt exhaled heavily.
“You misunderstand. Thirty percent goes to our community. That gets divided and rationed out to feed the three hundred plus people I’m trying to keep alive.”
“The hell it does.”
“I get it. You prepared. It should be yours. But there are three hundred and thirty-three starving people in our little community. If they see you carry all the supplies here? They will rebel. I wish I could offer you more than an equal share. But if I do, I’d be painting a target on your back. You’re in no position to want that,” Matt said, his gaze flicking to me.
Adam’s hold on me tightened fractionally.
“Some rescue. You’re telling me that the infected and hellhounds won’t kill us, but starvation will after my family spent years prepping.”
“You won’t starve. The fey go out looking for supplies every day. You have a chance to go out and bring back your own share that doesn’t get divided.”
Adam snorted.