In the Frigid Apocalypse My Husband Lost His Wife With His Own Hands Chapter 03

In the Frigid Apocalypse My Husband Lost His Wife With His Own Hands Chapter 03

The convoy started moving again.

Ethan carried Sophie into a climate-controlled transport. I was locked in an iron cage hitched to the rear and dragged along the ice-slick highway.

The remains of my broken leg shattered against the frozen ground. He never looked back.

The convoy reached the checkpoint at dusk. Haven stood just beyond the towering walls.

Inside the gates, lights blazed. There was hot water, food, and humanity’s last pocket of spring, held at a steady seventy-nine degrees.

Outside the walls, it was minus seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

Through the bars, I watched Ethan wrap a scarf around Sophie’s neck.

It was mine.

I had passed on it because it was too expensive, but Ethan secretly brought it home and told me it had only cost twenty bucks.

Now it was wrapped around Sophie’s neck.

Sophie touched the scarf.

“Ethan, this belonged to your wife, didn’t it?”

Ethan checked the temperature patch on her wrist.

“She’s gone.”

“What if she comes back?”

Ethan did not answer.

I hurled myself against the bars, and the cage rang with the impact.

Sophie flinched and ducked behind him.

“It’s staring at me again.”

Ethan turned.

“Quiet.”

I pointed at the scarf, then at myself.

That was mine.

“Hh… hh!”

Give it back!

Using my broken finger, I scratched letters into the frost coating the metal wall.

Sophie warned him quietly, “Ethan, advanced frost-dead can imitate handwriting.”

Ethan studied the name I had written.

“Nora always crossed the t in my name with a slight upward flick.”

I immediately wiped it away and wrote Ethan again, this time giving the t the same upward flick.

At last, a trace of doubt entered his eyes.

I hurriedly continued:

[Basement apartment. Blackout. Drumstick.]

When I was nineteen, we were living in a cramped basement apartment.

During a blackout, I ate the chicken drumstick he had saved for the next day, then told him a rat must have taken it.

Only the two of us knew about that.

Sophie stared at the words, and her expression shifted.

“The more it knows, the more it proves that it pulled those memories from your wife’s brain.”