My feet crunched through day-old snow as I searched all over, but there was no sign of Tom. Could he be out feeding the animals? He had goats—apparently, their blood was enough to keep the Draug sated—and he kept a paddock of them behind his cottage. I didn’t know what was involved in keeping livestock. Did he have to exercise them? Take them someplace for milking? I’d grown up in suburban Florida—how should I know?
I wandered to the paddock, climbing onto the fence for a bird’s-eye view, but there was no sign of anyone.
No sign, that is, until Toby appeared. I hopped down and instinctively grabbed a long-handled tool that’d been leaning against the fence. “Hey. ”
My farm boy. Toby-the-Trainee. My assignment. He looked as perplexed as I felt. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I could ask the same of you. ” I tightened my grip on the wooden handle, grateful I’d already removed my gloves. My hands were growing numb, but if it came to a fight, numbed fingers were a lot more nimble than gloved ones.
He didn’t attack, though. He just gave me a dopey smile. “You look like a witch. ”
“Huh?” I glanced at my impromptu weapon. It was an old pitchfork, with three long, thin, rusted prongs.
“Holding that dung fork,” he said. “You look like a witch. ” His tone was easy, not
aggressive at all. Was this a trick? Was my dim farmhand actually a conniving supergenius who was fooling me into dropping my guard?
“Actually, I feel more Amish,” I said, playing along. I hefted the fork high, trying to read his expression. We were alone. How was this going to play out? But then his words registered and I gave an involuntary smile. “Wait. What did you call this? I thought it was a pitchfork. ”
“Nah, that there’s a dung fork. ” Then he nodded to the paddock, which upon closer inspection, did appear rather dung-y. “You know, scoop it up, spread it out. Makes good fertilizer. ”
“Oh. Ew. ”
This was the guy I was supposed to kill? Mr. Dung Fork? I probably could take him down pretty easily. He had a good hundred pounds on me, but in this case, all that mattered was who had more IQ points.
“You never seen a dung fork?”
I shook my head. No, but I’ve met a boy dim as one.
My thoughts were churning. I had to “assassinate” him. “I still say it’s a pitchfork. ”
Toby laughed and kicked a muddy patch into the slushy ground. The guy wasn’t acting like he was about to attack. In fact, he wasn’t acting combative in the slightest bit.
But Alcántara’s words rang in my head. In our last class, he’d been furious with me. How serious are you, querida? And, I’m beginning to think you’ve lost heart. He’d never take me on as his assistant if I couldn’t complete the semester’s only assignment.
A snow flurry hit my cheek. One landed in my eye. I wiped my face, clearing my head. I couldn’t think of him as Toby. He was homework.
He gazed past me. “Looks like weather is coming. ”
Weather is coming. It was exactly what a farm boy would say. Like something Emma would’ve said. Suddenly, this felt too normal. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t deal with this chitchat.
“Where are you from, anyway? Because where I’m from in Nebras—”
“Guess what?” I snapped. “I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t care where you were born. Because guess what? This is where we’ll all die. ”
“Jeez,” he said, looking like I’d actually hurt him. “Take it easy. ”
But it wasn’t easy. This wasn’t normal. It was survival of the fittest.
My voice took on an edge. “What are you even doing here? I thought being on this side of the island freaked Trainees out. ” That was what Josh had told me anyway. “Aren’t you worried you might turn into one these zombified bloodthirsty monsters someday?”
He looked like he didn’t want to answer. Finally, he admitted, “Yeah, sure, it’s freaky. But we had to follow Yas. ”
My eyes widened. “Yasuo?”
He gave a baffled shrug. “He’s been acting weird. ”
“Understatement of the year. ” It hurt that Yasuo was no longer my friend—he’d once been mine to know about, chat with, look for. “He used to be one of my best friends. ”