by Jones, Isla
I sank back into the chair and stared at the wall.
Above, the grate of a vent stared back at me.
Debriefs. I hadn’t thought of that. I hadn’t thought that he, Leo and Adam would be swept up in meetings, mission-detailing and reports since we arrived.
I couldn’t imagine how tired they would all be. I was so tired that for the next near-hour in that chair, I drifted off a few times before jolting myself awake.
Dr Wong performed all sorts of tests on me. Blood, x-rays, ultrasounds, and took a few swabs of my saliva. She probed around a bit, too. After the invasive check-up, she handed me a packet of pills. They were in a plain white box with a medical name scribbled onto it that I didn’t understand. “Take one each morning after breakfast, and one each night after dinner.”
I tucked the box into the pocket of my sweatpants. “What are they?”
“Antibiotics.” Dr Wong rolled on her stool to the desk at the far wall. Her back stayed to me as she added, “You may return to your assigned room.”
Mason—the statue-ghost that he was—moved for the first time since we got to the surgical room. He pulled the door opened and waited for me to limp over. When I reached him, I spotted what was in his free hand. A crutch. He handed it to me, then led me back through the maze to my room.
Mason was a patient soldier.
Cleo and I trailed behind him, the call of sleep luring us too soon. Not once did he show irritation. In fact, I thought he was too intrigued by us for much else. Not intrigued just by Cleo and me, but the whole group.
Though, if I’d been trapped in an underground fortress for the whole seven months of the apocalypse, then a bunch of survivors showed up at my top-secret brownstone with a rotter and an immune, I might’ve been curious too.
My door was already unlocked and ajar. Before I went inside and gave into the pull of sleep for the rest of the night, I turned to Mason.
“Who’s in the room next to me?” I asked, gesturing to Room 10.
Confusion passed over his crinkled forehead a moment. “Corporal Hill, ma’am.”
My gaze drifted down to the floor.
He’d knocked on the wall, knowing it was me—checking that I was all right. He’d told Dr Wong about my injures to make sure I was seen to.
I’m not sure how I felt about that.
Though, even with the muddled thoughts in my tangled brain, I found sleep easily that night. Cleo and I slept more soundly than we ever had before in any version of the world.
We slept all through the night and more.
14.
There were no windows in the room. The lights were off, and we were blanketed in complete darkness.
I liked it. Somehow, it comforted me. If I couldn’t see the turn of the days outside, did that mean that time wasn’t moving?
I didn’t want time to move. I wanted to stay where I was in that bed and sleep my life away.
Lazily, I watched Cleo dig her way under the blankets.
My eyes drifted shut and sleep took us both once more.
15.
I woke to a sense of frustration.
Someone shook my shoulders and whispered my name over and over, like a re-enactment of a passage found in the Book of Most Annoying Things.
“Winter.” The voice followed with another rattle of my shoulders. “Get up. We’re allowed out.”
I groaned and hit out at whoever broke into my sleep. Grogginess grappled at me, losing its hold. I fought with it, to stay with it forever.
“Don’t hit me.” This time, there was a sudden sharpness to the voice. I batted it away again and an—ouch! “I told you not to hit me.”
My left eye peered open; the other covered by my arm, bent at an odd angle.
“Vicki?”
Through the blurriness of my sight, her features sharpened and those diamond-blue eyes of hers cut right through me. Sitting on the edge of my bed, she cradled Cleo to her lap and glowered down at me.
“Get up, lazy.”
It all seeped into my mind, like the vapour from the glass room—sucked back into the vents it came from.
“What—” My words cut off with a grunt as I flopped onto my back. Above me, was a sterile ceiling with a single vent. I wondered if the vents wound all around the CDC, connecting levels and sealed areas.
The CDC.
We were there, safe. My sister was close. And yet, I wasn’t happy.
A flood of relief should have washed over me. Instead, I rubbed my fists against my eyes and choked on another morning moan. Summer wasn’t the one to wake me up. She hadn’t come to me since I was last locked in the room. But once I saw her, I would be at peace. Content. Summer would fix everything.
I pushed myself up and leaned against the wall.
Eyes on Vicki’s stern face, I croaked, “What time is it?”
That question was a common one before the CDC. In the world outside, we still asked it on occasion. We weren’t really asking for the time in minutes and hours. It was more a question that needed a general time of day—morning, midday, evening. Was it time to stop for a toilet break? Was it time to get back on the road?
Most importantly, was it ration time?
“Time for you get out of this bed,” she said. Her nose crinkled and she ran her gaze over my sheets as though they wore the stains of a thousand lovers. “How long have you been sleeping here?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “How long have we been here?”
Vicki didn’t hesitate. “Two days.”
“Then that’s how long I’ve been sleeping.”
Vicki huffed and turned her gaze on the rest of the room. “You know Cleo has pissed everywhere, right?”
Half my face scrunched up and I traced her roaming gaze. “Oh.”
“Oh,” she echoed, bland as water.
A moment passed in which she just stared at me, hard. Then, she put Cleo on the floor and stripped the duvet from my sweaty body—the horrid kind of sweat, cold and sticky.
“Get up,” she ordered. “You’re having a shower, then we’re going to have some breakfast.”
Vicki, I decided, was a tad scary in the CDC. Did the thick metal walls of the underground facility wipe away her fear of the rotters? If so, I was faced with what was left under that fear.
As I showered and washed my hair, Vicki cleaned up Cleo’s mess in my room.
Apparently, there’d been a lot of mess made. Every time she wiped up wet patches, or picked up small poops, she made it her business to mutter—loud mutters, so that I would hear her under the stream of water—and to bang her hand on a piece of furniture.
When I climbed out of the shower and towel-rubbed my hair, I shouted out to her; “When were you let out?”
“Yesterday,” she said. “They invited us to lunch.”
I dropped the damp towel to the floor and stared at my distorted reflection in the wobbly mirror. “Us?”
“Us,” she repeated. “Our group, minus … you know.”
I did know. The deltas. Leo, Castle, Adam and Mac.
“Mason said he came to invite you but you were sleeping, so we left you to rest.”
A twist tore through my insides.
There had been a soldier in my room while I slept? And I’d slept so deeply that I hadn’t even noticed … I didn’t like that, not one bit. Next time, I might have to shove a chair under the doorknob just to be sure.
I squeezed toothpaste onto the brush. “How’s Mac?”
For a while, there was silence. Not even the sounds of her scrubbing the floorboards or the rustle of paper-towels crept through the ajar door.
“Vicki?” I called out. “Did you hear me?”
A heaved breath came from her before she answered, “He’s in intensive care. Dr Wong is doing all she can.”
All she can…
That didn’t sound good. But to admit that to Vicki would be to address a truth she wasn’t ready to face.
I rinsed out my mouth. “With a doctor good enough to
work here, he’s got a great shot. And they have all this fancy equipment.” I paused to gurgle. “They’ll fix him up, no problem.”
Vicki slipped through the door and eyed me.
“It’s a wonder those two believed you when you took the fall for me.”
Frowning, I turned my gaze on her. “What’re you talking about?”
“Castle and Leo. How could they believe that you had a pregnancy scare?” She shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar, Winter.”
My lips dug into my face. There was no bother trying to smooth over the lies I’d told her. Vicki knew Mac’s chances were as good as they could be, but still—they mightn’t be good enough.
I turned off the tap before I ran a comb through my hair.
Vicki’s gaze stayed on my profile.
Finally, she spoke; “We haven’t seen much of the deltas since we got here. They’ve been really busy. But Castle came by dinner last night.” She paused, the burn of her stare itching my cheek. “He didn’t say so, but I think he was there to check on you.”
The comb paused halfway down my hair. After a moment, I ran it the rest of the way through.
“They haven’t been to any of the meals, except that one. Leo came in with Castle … He asked how you were. I told him you were tired.”
Through the distorted mirror, I watched Cleo hop into the shower and sniff the dregs of water left at the bottom.
“I don’t want to talk about them.” I drew away from the sink and met her stiff gaze. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I want nothing to do with them. Just because we’re here now doesn’t mean they haven’t done the things they’ve done. All those betrayals and lies and…” Times they’ve broken me. “None of it gets a free pass or just washed away because we made it here.”
Vicki’s face betrayed nothing. She stayed leaning against the wall, her arms folded, and gave a steady nod. “Ok.”
With that one short response, the tightness in my jaw unwound and the tension in my arms smoothed out.
“Ok,” I said and forced a smile.
Her smile was just as forced. Not because we didn’t want to smile at each other, or that we didn’t agree on my decision—but because, while we’d made it to the CDC, our battles weren’t over yet. Those problems we’d all wanted to run from had followed us down here.
Now, they lived with us.
*
I’d expected a mess hall. A room with a canteen and rows of metal tables and chairs. I hadn’t expected the magnificence of the circular room Vicki took me to.
There were no doors to the dining hall. The entrance was a wide, wall-to-wall archway … Only, the archway wasn’t curved, and I think it was called something else. I’d have to ask Summer, because I have no idea. To me, it was a rectangular archway.
Beyond the entrance, a round table triple the size of my room sat in the middle, surrounded by people. Soldiers—soldiers everywhere. There were some dotted white coats among the troops, but cammo and all-black uniforms swarmed the round table. And in the middle of them all was a spread of food that had drool flooding my mouth and even leaking a little.
Fresh vegetables, roasted chicken, fries, boiled potatoes, fried eggs and—oh, help me—bacon strips. There were bowls of salads, ripe and colourful, and a giant cheesecake on a glass cake stand.
Dazed, I turned to Vicki and mouthed three words at her; ‘What the fuck?’
Underground facility or not, I couldn’t fathom how any of these foods were sitting on a table right in front of me. Even with a fridge, how could those foods be stored without rotting? Maybe they were all frozen foods. They sure didn’t look it, but months living off of instant noodles and undercooked beans could have warped my sense of food judgement.
Vicki took my hand and helped me to the nearest seat. Cleo was balanced on her other arm, and I used the crutch to support my weight to the table. As we neared, some of the soldiers looked up. Most of them stared outright.
“What are they looking at?” I muttered under my breath.
Vicki didn’t answer right away. She helped me into my chair and set the crutch to the side.
As she sank into her own seat, she whispered, “There aren’t many women here. Including you, me and Lisa, there are six of us, and around twenty of them.”
That was not comforting. I always thought the world—before and after—was so telling in that way. In an apocalypse, one man would be thrilled to be stuck with ten women. One woman would be terrified to be stuck with ten men.
One of the soldiers pulled away from his group across the table. A crooked, somewhat goofy smile brightened his face and I found that he didn’t intimidate me in the slightest. That might’ve had something to do with his cammo uniform. Somehow, it seemed lower than the all-black.
“That’s Lotan,” whispered Vicki. She reached forward and grabbed two plates. “He’s all right.”
I nodded just as Lotan pulled out a chair a few down from Vicki. To see him, I had to lean forward a little, which wasn’t the most wonderful position for my newly-stitched wound.
“Hey.” Lotan grinned at me. I know men and I know their grins—I can read them with a single, curt glance. Lotan’s was sincere, if a little naïve. “You’re Winter, right? We’ve been waitin’ for you to wake up.”
Like always, my smile was forced, and I wondered if I would ever know a true smile again. “I was tired,” I said. “If you ever go out there, you might understand.”
Lotan’s smile faltered. His cheeks burned and he shifted awkwardly in his chair. I got the feeling I’d just kicked a puppy.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was making conversation, that’s all.”
Vicki flicked her hand, like she was dismissing a servant. “Don’t mind her, Winter’s just grouchy this morning. Can you pass the bacon?”
Lotan’s practically tripped over himself to fill her plate with bacon. I watched, perplexed, as he loaded all sorts of food onto her plate, then even started on mine.
“He’s nice,” I said. “And I’m an asshole.”
Vicki snorted. “You’re guarded, and a little bitter. There’s a difference.”
We were stuck with Lotan for the better part of an hour.
A couple of his fellow soldiers, Mason included, slid down chair to chair until they reached us and formed a small group.
I loathed it. The first day—awake—in the CDC was not the day I wanted to spend getting to know the soldiers. What I wanted was to see Summer. Not strange new faces all around me, grinning like they were toddlers and it was Christmas morning, making jokes and cheering each other on.
Though, their company wasn’t terrible enough to battle my appetite. I devoured every scrap of food on my plate, and even started to lick my fingers when Mason pulled it away from me.
He levelled his gaze with mine.
Moments before, he’d been hollering over another soldier’s recount of a rally race they’d had in the west wing. Apparently, Mason had lost by a few seconds, but Mason objected to this version of the story—the other solider had cheated, according to him. And now, he’d slipped back into his statue soldier costume.
Ms Miles,” he said. “Leave room for the cheesecake.”
The others laughed. Even Vicki smiled, though it was tainted with the horrors that stayed with us both—Mac and Summer.
Mason was trying to be friendly. I know that. Still, I wondered what it would feel like to stab a fork in his thigh. A thought I only entertained for a moment, mind you.
Oblivious to my simmering anger, Mason reached for the cheesecake and cut a generous piece for me. I watched the knife sink in and thought of how I’d used knives like that to kill rotters, how I’d never used a knife like that to cut up my food. Not since the end, at least. The most I’d done with a knife and food was spend ages stabbing a tin to loosen the lid.
Just watching him cut the cheesecake flared up so much rage within me that my hands shook on the table.
I curled my fingers and
dug my nails into the table.
“Winter.” Vicki rested her hand on mine. “Winter, come on.” She pulled me up from the chair, her grip tight. “I have to show you something.”
At Vicki’s cluck, Cleo hopped off the chair beside mine for the floor and abandoned her mostly devoured hunk of chicken breast.
“Oh, come on!” Mason put the plate in front of me, but I just towered over it, a hot sensation whirling around my heart. “She hasn’t tried it yet. It’s no patisserie cheesecake, but it’s—”
It happened before I could stop it.
Before I’d realised that the rage had blinded me, had consumed every piece of me, the cheesecake went flying through the air.
I’d whacked it off the table with one harsh hit.
Mason leaned back. The entire table hushed into a tense quiet.
And I shook. My shoulders shook, my hands shivered at my sides, and I’m sure my heart trembled most of all.
“Seven months,” I hissed. “Seven months and you’ve been down here, eating cheesecakes and roast chickens … laughing and making jokes …” I paused to suck in a deep breath, if only to stop the tears of anger from rolling down my cheeks. “Seven months you’ve all been living it up,” I spat, my lip curling. Shouts ripped through me; “And people up there have been dying! Ripped apart while you argue over who won a fucking rally race? What is wrong with you people?” I heaved a horrid, hoarse breath and pushed away from the table. “You have no idea what it’s like out there, not a damn single one of you, you pathetic little—”
A hand on my shoulder cut off my words.
Before I could turn around, I felt the familiar hand on me, the nostalgic warmth. The mere touch had my eyes drifting shut and a shaky breath crawling out from my throat.
Tears leaked. After all that, tears escaped the corners of my eyes and I swatted them away like I had done the cheesecake splattered all over the floor.
With a sniff, I turned around to face him.
Castle kept his hand firm on my shoulder. The familiar gleam of his eyes drew me in and held me there. “Let’s take a walk.”