“What was that? You have to say ‘over’ or it doesn’t work. Over,” Mickey says.
Torin jerks the walkie-talkie back. “I didn’t do that. Over. I want a sex bench. Over. To sex Riley. Over.”
“Copy that. Over,” Mickey says.
“How do you turn this fucking thing off?” Vero growls.
Mickey pops back on. “What was that? Over.”
“I’m going to walkoverto you and crush your stupid machine in my bare hands.”
“You forgot to say over. Over,” Mickey helpfully adds.
I press the button on the walkie-talkie that’s still in Torin’s hands. “This is meant for important things… not whatever this is.”
“You forgot to say ‘over,’” Torin says, jumping on Mickey’s ludicrous train.
“Riley, Vero is heading toward me and I’m scared. Over.”
“You probably deserve it.”
“He’s getting closer. I can see my life flashing before my eyes. Over.”
“I really think we should get back on track. Over,” Torin says, surprising me that the one single person who has rejoined my side is the one who began this nonsense. “Mickey, do you have an undead carpenter? Over.”
“Torin, you’re not supposed to say over until you’re done. Otherwise I don’t know when I can cry for help. Over,” Mickey states.
“New rule. Walkie-talkies are limited to emergencies only,” I declare.
Of course Mickey is back. “Who made Riley boss? Over.”
“I like it when Riley bosses me around. Over.”
I scowl at Torin, who just grins at me before continuing. “His eyes are ripping right through me as we speak. Over. Making the bench is an emergency. Over.”
“Hey guys, there’s some scary-looking people heading this way. Over.”
I hesitate as I realize that maybe, for once, something of importance has been said. “We’re coming.”
Chapter Eighteen
Riley
I turn my walkie-talkie back on and grab Torin’s wrist while we rush from the building and back down the street to the area we’d come from. When we reach it, I see a group of guards from the capital approaching before Mickey calls up a row of undead, stopping them in their tracks. The undead immediately cut off the path between the guards and the people who are waiting in line for their meals.
The shock over someone using magic seems to ripple through both sides. The guards draw their guns and the branded look timid but eager to see what’s happening.
“I’m not going to let you take their food from them,” Mickey calls from where he stands behind his undead who aren’t doing anything but creating a blockade, so they don’t appear menacing. I think as long as he doesn’t provoke the other side into a fight, they should be fine. “I think we could talk this through somehow. Maybe if you weren’t such dicks, we’d invite you to the meal with us.”
With Torin standing by my side, I say, “Let me through to talk to them.”
“All food must go through the capital,” a guard announces.
“You just going to starve us out?” a branded man shouts. “We’re no different than the rest of you.”
Tensions are growing and I know we can’t let them fight; it’s exactly what Famine wants.
“We’re all fucking starving!” a guard yells back. “Why shouldn’t the food be shared?”
