The Burning World (Warm Bodies #2)(135)

And how we wish we could give those answers. How we long to emerge from the hush of memory and shout into the present. To reveal our secrets to all these desperate searchers and finally tear the veil. But though a library brims with a thousand eloquent voices, it can’t speak a word until the world learns to read.

So we wait.

We wait with the Dead, moving through their ranks like spies or maybe allies, and we share their mood: restless, hungry, ready to go to war. It’s been years since any attempt to count them, and this is good, because the Living are fearful enough without knowing they’re outnumbered.

The Dead are a larger army than any ever assembled, and they follow no leader, fear no threat, and accept no bribe or compromise. The Dead are the silent majority, and should they ever decide to say something, it will be the new law of the land.

The mantle flows beneath their feet like the nudge of a warm hand, and one by one, they begin to wander west.