by Bella Street
She shrugged. “Even if I could, I don't want to.”
“So you're going to deal the way you always do—go into denial.”
Seffy blinked, surprised at his harsh tone. She lifted her chin, suddenly not in the mood for a tender reconciliation. “It's gotten me this far.”
He arched a brow at their surroundings.
She flushed, unsure of how to proceed.
“I want you to know I was trying to figure out a way to get to you,” he said quietly. “I heard your screams.”
“Well, bottom line, we're all out, and maybe they can focus on getting us home now.”
“There's still a possibility of zombies out there,” Malone said suddenly.
Great, not only is he a traitor, but he eavesdrops. “But they're no longer making new ones, right?”
“Right,” he said, his voice grating.
“So that's something positive.” She looked at Gareth. “Are you going to try and help with the time travel thing—?”
He put his fork down. “Sef, I know you all think I'm this closet nerd, but time travel isn't even supposed to be possible. I can't just waltz into the computer lab and put in some coordinates to get us home.”
Her face heated. Maybe she expected too much from him? Then again, who else could she turn to? “But you'll try, right?”
“Of course I'll try. I want to get home, too.”
Seffy thought of the house they shared in West Hollywood. If they got back, would it ever feel like home again?
“So for now, your job is to stay safe.”
And out of the way? Seffy wanted to ignore the dark thought, but it was hard not to read such the meaning in Gareth's tone.
“Here you go,” Lani said suddenly, putting down a tray with a bowl of vegetable soup, a turkey sandwich and an orange.
“Thank you so much, this looks heavenly.”
Addison slid onto the bench opposite her with her own tray. “Doesn't seem like cafeteria food has changed much.”
“Do you mean then or now?” Lani asked, smiling.
Seffy wondered how everyone could appear so relaxed, chatting in a cafeteria, after what they'd been through. And she was the one supposedly in denial? The minute she got her strength back, she was going to look for a way out of this hell-hole.
When it took almost more energy than she could muster to unwrap her sandwich, she sighed. Might be later than sooner.
Baxter walked into the cafeteria, smiling nervously at their group—which was about the same expression he had when they'd arrived on the compound doorstep seeking asylum from the zombies. The compound liaison blinked through his over-sized glasses.
“I hope you're feeling restored after the unfortunate events of the past week.”
His statement was met with silence, which brought on a bout of throat-clearing from behind his bushy blond mustache.
“And in order to show we're concerned for your continued welfare, we've upgraded your accommodations.”
“Does that mean we get to go home?” Addison asked, her tone dry.
“Ah, well, not quite yet. But we feel you'll be pleased with the changes until we can attend to that other matter.”
Wormholes and time travel and apocalypse were 'another matter'?
“What does an upgrade mean?” Jared asked, picking at his teeth with a tine of his fork.
“You'll each be given private rooms. We want to make you more comfortable. We want you to feel like you are our guests.”
“That's it?” Gareth said. “And here I thought it meant we might get limo service back to L.A.”
Baxter's forced smile grew even more brittle. “Ah, when you're finished here—and I recommend that as the residents will soon be arriving for their evening meal—I will be escorting you to your new rooms.”
Everyone slowly rose from the benches and followed Baxter from the cafeteria. Seffy grabbed her sandwich and orange, regretting she had to leave her soup behind. She held them awkwardly to herself, bringing up the rear of the group. Jared glanced back at her and sneered.
What did I do now?
It didn't take long to realize the compound liaison was taking them back to where they started.
“Doesn't look like we're making it out of the old psychiatric wing,” Addison noted.
“I'm afraid this is where the bulk of available rooms are at the moment.” Baxter said. “However we're pleased to tell you each room will have a phone with which to call other rooms or the kitchen for room service.”
“Whoee,” Jared mocked. “We're getting the VIP treatment!”
Baxter reddened as he stopped at the first door. Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, he told everyone their room number. After gazing at the doors lining one wall, Seffy realized her room must be around the corner. Why wasn't she closer to her friends? “Who chose the rooms?”
“Ah, Fiona has spent considerable time looking to make you more comfortable.”
Fiona. Fenn's bitchy girlfriend, who apparently didn't know what side she was on—Fenn's or the vigilantes who wanted Seffy's group eliminated from the compound altogether. If anyone could turn room assignments into a dark plot it was she.
“And,” he continued quietly, “unfortunately due to your most recent illness, you'll be precluded from room service.”
Seffy clutched her orange tighter. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I'm truly sorry, Miss Carter.”
She sighed and looked away, wanting nothing more at the moment than to eat her food and sleep.
Cynthia and Eva, the two girls who had arrived in the desert with Trent, Jared and Clay, walked into their side-by-side rooms. She heard them comparing their room décor, all in various shades of beige.
So nothing had really changed.
Seffy got Gareth's room number and found him sitting up on his bed looking as miserable as she felt. She set her food on the desk and approached the bed. A bit of bandaging stuck out from his shirt.
His smile seemed half-hearted, his dark eyes hiding more than they revealed. “So here we are. Again.”
“Yeah.” Needing to be near him despite his grumpiness, she sat on the edge of his bed.
Gareth took her hand. His touch warmed her aching heart a little. “I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
She looked down at his hands, reveling in the contact—for as long as it lasted. “I think we're all pretty done in.”
He was silent for a moment, his face like granite. “I should've been able to protect you.”
“Kind of hard when you had a gun pressed into your back.”
“Yeah.” He released a breath. “At least here I don't have to worry about you now. I know we're safe.”
Seffy blinked, thinking of the experimentation and attempts on her life. “Safe?”
“From the zombies.”
“Ah.”
Swallowing back disappointment at his complete misunderstanding of the situation, she reached out and touched the fresh dressing on his shoulder. “I'm really glad you're alive.”
His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “How is it you are?”
She lowered her eyes, confusion warring with her need for his proximity. Was he still talking about the zombies? “Guess I'm tougher than I look.”
“I was so sure I'd never see you again.”
Seffy pointed to her leg, forcing herself to keep things light. “I do have a yucky wound, but I don't think it's getting any worse. It sure flipped out the new doctor and nurses when they saw it today. They all wore those silver suit thingies. And if I want room service, it has to come to someone else's room, then I pick it up.” She grimaced. “Looks like my cooties just went mushroom cloud.”
Gareth stared at her, his eyes wet. “Come here.”
She leaned toward him and he pulled her into an embrace, hugging her tight. She closed her eyes and soaked up every second of his touch.
“God, Sef, I was so worried about you.”
Was? Seffy felt sad when he released her. “I
wonder if succumbing to the virus would've been so bad. It's the surviving and recovering that bites.”
“Don't talk like that. We need you. Me and the girls.”
She smoothed the fabric of the ugly jeans she wore, struggling to put a damper on her self-pity.
He rubbed his head with the heel of his hand. “And I'll be helping figure a way out of this place and back to our own time.”
She forced a smile. “I bet you'll find a way soon.”
Gareth leaned back and peered up at her. “I heard you were with Trent for a couple of days after he got you out.”
“I was too sick to make a run for it when he found me.”
“Did he treat you okay?”
She nodded, keeping her expression flat. “He really helped me out. Can't hold that against him.”
“If he wasn't nice, I can punch his face in for you.”
She smiled. “I think even you'd approve of his treatment. And he really had no choice but to leave me with what seemed like a sweet little lady.”
Addison and Lani walked in. Seffy looked up. “Hey.”
Addison flopped onto a chair by the bed, her green eyes large in her thinner face. “Let me just say being held hostage sucks.”
“It was terrible in those cells,” Lani said. “No showers, same clothes, horrid food...” She shuddered.
“So what do you think of the new digs?” Addy said, changing the subject.
Seffy looked around. “If only tan was my favorite color.”
Addison smiled. “I know, right?”
“I think it's nice the way they're treating us like residents instead of guests now,” Lani said, smoothing back her hair.
“It's not nice enough,” Seffy said, spearing the brunette with an incredulous look. “I want to go home.”
“We all want to go home, Sef,” Addison said. “That goes without saying.”
Seffy compressed her lips to avoid making a snarky comment Gareth would misconstrue.
“It's not all that bad here,” Lani ventured.
“You're just glad Malone is around,” Addy said.
Lani blushed. “We're becoming friends, I think.”
“He's way older than you and, like, villainous.”
“Addy, you're always so quick to judge.”
“And I'm usually right.”
Reminding herself that they were all alive and together, Seffy roused herself to lighten the conversation. “I think Malone has something of a vibe going for him but he's not all that trustworthy. I mean, he did sell us out to Popov.”
“He was led astray,” Lani said, absolving all in her usual way.
Addison shook her head then sent a sly look at Seffy. “I heard Trent got you out before anyone else. So what did you two do all those days you were together?”
“It was only two days, and we were just trying not to get dead.”
“Did you ever have to get naked and share bodily warmth?”
“Addison,” Gareth scolded.
“I don't remember there being anything wrong with the heating and cooling system,” Lani said, concerned.
“There wasn't,” Seffy said, her tone dry. “Addison just has her mind in the gutter.”
Addison studied her. “He got a room ten doors around the corner from the rest of us. Maybe he feels ashamed or something.”
“He also hasn't eaten with us,” Lani said. “Do you think he feels left out?”
Seffy kept her expression neutral. “I don't think he feels left out. I wouldn't worry about it.” She stood up. “Anyway, I for one plan on sleeping for at least three days straight.”
“I think we all need it,” said Gareth.
Seffy longed to lean down and kiss him on the cheek. “No more getting shot, okay?”
He smiled and rolled his eyes.
“Bye, Sef,” Lani said, her smile reassuringly sweet.
Addison gave a half wave and turned her attention to Gareth.
Seffy found her bedroom around the corner and down the hall. Was she really so contagious as to be separated so far from everyone else? It doesn't matter in the end. Presumably my new room has a bed and that's all that matters.
And food. Damn. She left it in Gareth's room. But she didn't want to go back now. Anyway, she'd been hungry for so long she could almost ignore the pangs.
And as much as she wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep for days, her mind strayed toward Trent. She should check on him, make sure everything was okay. Maybe he had some candy bars left.
Once she located her room, she opened the door and peeked inside. It was a carbon copy of her last one. Big whoop.
She checked the hallway first to make sure it was empty, Seffy counted ten doors around another corner, then knocked softly. As she waited for a response, she glanced down the darkened hallway leading away from his room. A large set of double-doors with small windows caught her attention—mostly because of a large chain threaded through the handles, fastened by a large deadbolt.
Seffy heard something between a snort and a mumble from the other side of Trent's door. She twisted the doorknob and peeked inside.
Trent was on top of the twin bed covers, leaning against the headboard, wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt, staring at a little staticky TV set. His damp hair was ruffled and his face, clean-shaven. Seffy decided she kinda missed the stubble. “Hey.”
He grunted.
“So, what's behind those doors at the end of your hall?”
“Someplace you don't want to be.”
“Have you looked through the windows?”
“Just do me a favor, and stay away from there, okay?”
Seffy stared at him, unsure why his manner toward her had changed so abruptly. “Well, I...just wanted to check in on you.”
He looked over at her, his expression bland. “As you can see I'm fine.”
Seffy approached the bed and sat on the chair next to it. She wanted to touch his arm, but was afraid of his reaction.
“What do you want—?” Trent asked, then raised his brows. “You know, that Betty woman brought up a good point. I don't know if Seffy is your real name or a nickname.”
She bit her lip, surprised by the direction of the conversation. “Nickname.”
“For?”
“Persephone.”
“So she guessed right. Smart lady.” He stared at her as if wondering what parent would so name a child. Good question.
“Yeah, she was just lovely—right before she stole my gun and pointed it at me. By the way, I still have it. It's in my room.”
“Keep it. Around here, you'll need it sooner than later.”
Seffy wondered why he was being so prickly. “Why is your room so far from everyone else's? Even from mine, which is just about in the hinterlands.”
He snorted. “Why would I want to be anywhere near a bunch of losers? Present company excluded of course.”
“Of course,” she mocked, stung by his sarcastic tone. “How did you get Fiona to give you a room so far away?”
“I just asked.”
“Really,” she said in disbelief. “So I could get mine closer to my friends?”
“I doubt it. She won't want to shake it up now that all the rooms have been assigned.”
“Why am I sure you're full of it?”
He sent her a dry look. “So, what do you want, Persephone?”
Seffy frowned. “Nice.”
“Shouldn't you be resting after your ordeal?”
“I plan on it.” She compressed her lips, wishing he wasn't making this so hard. “I really...just want you to know how much I appreciate—”
He smirked, cutting off her words. “We already hugged on it, remember? You don't owe me anything.”
Seffy refused to rise to his bait. They were all stressed out beyond belief. He would feel better after resting, too. She stood up. “Well then, I'll see you around.”
As she started to go, he looked up. “I liked it when you got rid of your blue contacts. Now I see y
our hair is reverting to its natural color. I like that better too.”
Her roots were becoming an issue. She studied him, wondering why he chose to bring it up now. “You really know how to give a girl a back-handed compliment.” On impulse, she reached out and mussed his hair. “Like those highlights weren't after-market.”
Trent batted her hand away then gave her the once-over. “While we're on the subject, is there anything else fake I should know about?”
Seffy smacked him upside the head. “Classy.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Why are you like this again? When it was just us, you were halfway nice.”
He made a face. “Sorry, I'm not interested in joining the Seffy Fan Club.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” When he ignored her, she blew out a disgusted breath and stalked toward the door. This was the guy who had combed out her ratty hair, who'd kept her going with candy bars, who'd rescued her. With her hand on the knob, she turned back to him. “I don't even know who you are.”
Trent turned his attention back to the TV. “I'm just the guy who saved your ass.”
“Cute.”
“By the way, you're bleeding.”
Surprised, Seffy looked down at her white shirt, but saw nothing. Then she twisted her head and peered down at as much of her back as she could see. Several dime-sized spots of blood stained the fabric of the shirt—from the puncture sites she hadn't been able to get to.
Damn. Why hadn't anyone else noticed?
Seffy spun around and left. As she closed the door behind her with more than necessary, her gaze strayed to the end of the hall. That the compound had secrets, she had no doubt. But what secrets needed to be locked with a giant chain and deadbolt?
Seffy walked the twenty feet or so to the doors, and bracing her hands against the wall, slowly leaned forward to peek through the windows.
A lone exit sign glowed feebly in the darkness, casting just enough light to hint at yet more doorways. She pulled back slightly, wondering why Trent would want his room so near this place. Just knowing it was locked up gave her the heebie-jeebies.
As she lowered her hands, her finger caught on a peeling chunk of paint. Seffy yanked her hand back and brushed it on her pants, figuring a place this old probably used lead paint. Maybe that had something to do with why they needed a psych ward in the first place.