[ Carver, meanwhile, steps over the skeleton only because the sound of vine crunching under his boot would be loud and they can’t afford the echo. Stupidity is a sin, grave as all the rest. If you get your brothers killed—
But his brothers aren’t here, Carver reminds himself. His brothers are dead on the ground in Meridian. Rotting like all the other forgotten bones.
His fingers twitch. It takes him a moment to refocus, to remember that Sam’s here, sniping and forth with him. Sam, who doesn’t say a damn thing about the rotters or the world ending but once missed carne asada, which Carver’s grandmother used to make sometimes. ]
Enchiladas for me, [ he says after a moment, more honest than he cares for. ] The real ones. Not the bullshit they served.
no subject
But his brothers aren’t here, Carver reminds himself. His brothers are dead on the ground in Meridian. Rotting like all the other forgotten bones.
His fingers twitch. It takes him a moment to refocus, to remember that Sam’s here, sniping and forth with him. Sam, who doesn’t say a damn thing about the rotters or the world ending but once missed carne asada, which Carver’s grandmother used to make sometimes. ]
Enchiladas for me, [ he says after a moment, more honest than he cares for. ] The real ones. Not the bullshit they served.