What made the virus so deadly, was that the infected were compelled to walk the streets in fevered confusion, sometimes in a rough and violent state of mind before slipping away into death. It made containing the disease near impossible because the Walkers infected everyone in their path.
A scientist created a vaccine in the Galla province, but the cure came at a steep cost, thus causing a great divide between those that could afford to live and those that could not. As a result, those that couldn’t afford the vaccine were forced to migrate into concentrated areas of sickness and poverty now known as the Walker Zones, where I was born.
Walkers have since developed drastic ways to prevent the spreading of Influenza X throughout the Walker Zones. At the first sign of infection, a Walker is killed, and their home burned down. Some mornings I could look out the kitchen window to see smoke billowing in the distance, indicating that another infected person was dead.
It was a devastating world, but I was thankful to live at Stonewall Manor. I had no freedoms, but at least I had a roof over my head.
I escaped into the kitchen after breakfast to begin my chores and menu-planning for the upcoming visit. While I washed the dishes, I heard Mistress Stonewell announce that she was leaving for her morning walk, and shortly after, I heard the slamming of the steel, front door, Josiah wandered into the kitchen. Over the years, I learned to treasure the few times Mistress Stonewell left the house because it was in those precious moments that the boy I once knew and loved came out.
“You hate that fucking basement,” he said while looking down at his boots that I had polished the night before. He ran a hand through his parted blond locks and adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned side to side, and I assumed that a stream of messages and updates appeared before his eyes.
“I don’t have a choice, Jo.” I shrugged and continued to wash dishes. I only used the nickname I gave him as a child when we were alone.
He walked around the steel, kitchen island and approached from behind while my hands scrubbed dishes in the soapy water. I craved being near him, and each step he made gave me goosebumps.
He brushed one of my golden-brown, curly strands behind my neck and winced when he saw the ear tag clipped to the ridge of my ear, marking me as an owned Walker.
“I’ll buy you a small light on my way home. They even have some that project stars on the ceiling. Do you remember counting stars with me, Ash?” he asked softly while still standing close. I could feel his hot breath against my neck, and I fought the urge to lean back against his muscular chest. Aside from the lingering stares and occasional flirtatious touch, he was a Stonewell, and I was a Walker. An invisible barrier of society would always be between us.
“I remember everything, Josiah.” I sighed.
“Me, too,” he answered with a sigh. He then rolled his eyes at another message that flashed across his glasses and groaned. Our little moments together were always cut short.
I dried my hands off and grabbed the lunch tin I’d prepared for him early this morning. It was a beautiful day outside, so I assumed he would want to take a walk at the local pond, therefore, I’d made him something easy to hold. I was always thinking of the little details where Josiah was concerned.
I helped him into his button-up coat, and my hands lingered on his shoulders to dust off the nonexistent lint. We followed this routine every morning. A friendly gesture that acted like an imaginary dam between what was expected of us and what we truly wanted to do. It was in this little moment every morning that I allowed myself the fleeting pleasure of touching his broad shoulders.
Before walking out the door of the kitchen, he turned to face me. “I wanted to warn you. The Black family isn’t known for their civilized practices. Their province follows the old laws of our people, and unless you are serving us, I would appreciate it if you kept your distance from them.” Josiah then gave me a look of protective determination that made my knees weak.
I had heard rumors of those that followed the old laws. “I’ll keep to myself,” I promised. Josiah rewarded me with one of his rare, earth-shattering smiles that made me tingle all the way down to my toes.
Sometimes I wondered if Josiah felt anything for me outside of familial obligation and brotherly friendship, but every day before walking out the steel door of the Stonewall dwelling, he looked back at me with longing eyes, and I knew this affection, this want, wasn’t one-sided.
Chapter Two
Over the next few days, I spent every waking moment scrubbing the Stonewell Manor from top to bottom. The list of chores Mistress Stonewell required of me was never-ending, but a good distraction. I used the Black Family’s arrival as an excuse to stay up late and avoid the basement as much as possible. Josiah set up a beautiful nightlight that filled the basement ceiling with a star constellation that was breathtaking. The sweet gesture had me swooning and smiling throughout the day.
A few days passed of cleaning and preparing for the expansive meals Mistress Stonewell required. Josiah spent most of that time avoiding me. I could tell something serious was bothering him, and I desperately wanted to be the person he revealed his troubles to. This visit was causing him immense amounts of stress, and it bothered me that it made him go out of his way to avoid me. What could the Black Family be doing to have Josiah all out of sorts?
I spent the morning of their arrival baking goods and adequately preparing the guest rooms with clean sheets and putting homemade mints and flowers on the pillows. I wondered briefly what deal could possibly be made between the two families, but I was mostly too busy to ponder it.
About an hour before they were scheduled to arrive, Mistress Stonewell cornered me in the kitchen with a fierce expression.
“We need to do something about your appearance. I can’t have the Black Family thinking that I let my Walkers go around looking like that.” She then gestured to my dress and sighed dramatically, causing a self-conscious blush to overcome my cheeks.
Once I finished what I was doing in the kitchen, she quickly ushered me to her upstairs, lavish bedroom with a king-sized, four-poster bed topped by a thick, red comforter. She sifted through the many racks of long dresses in her walk-in closet until she found a modest, forest-green, floor-length, 3/4 sleeve dress. I felt the thick, velvet material and sighed. It was rare that I was allowed to wear such beautiful clothes, but the fabric would be too delicate to keep clean as well as too hot for my daily walks to the market.
“Go shower and scrub the dirt from under your nails. And for the love of God, try to brush your hair.” We both knew that trying to tame my wild curls was useless, but I nodded at her orders, nevertheless.
I made my way to the bathroom and shut the door. Usually, I was allowed two timed, showers—always cold—a week, but given that this was an unusual circumstance, I took this opportunity to truly enjoy the scalding water that beat against my back comfortably. I scrubbed the dirt and oil from my face and hair until the water ran clear down the drain. Then, I towel-dried my body and hair and attempted to make my appearance pleasing to Mistress Stonewell.
She usually was disinterested in what I looked like, but given the circumstances, I didn’t want to disappoint. I put oil in my hair to smooth the unruly, coarse, golden-brown curls and applied some bee’s wax to my plump lips to help them shine. I shimmied into the form-fitting dress and repositioned my breasts so that they no longer spilled out of the low-cut top. The green color made my lightly-freckled skin take on a golden hue, and the overall effect made me smile. Not being one to obsess over my looks, it was nice to have a brief moment of vanity to appreciate my appearance. I even quietly stole Mistress Stonewell’s eyelash curler and used it to make the thick lashes around my hazel eyes form my lids nicely. Then, using my nails, I plucked a few stray hairs from my thick brows.