“Don’t mind the mess, it’s all Max’s.” Susan hands me a cup of creamy coffee.
In my old life I wouldn’t have drunk coffee after six p.m., in case the caffeine kept me awake, but these days it’s such a rare commodity that I couldn’t give a shit if it was midnight, I’d still be drinking it. And without a doubt, I’ll still be sleeping tonight. It’s only when I get it to within distance of my mouth that I realize it is something so much better.
“Holy shit, are you some kind of crazy witch?” I take a sip, letting the smooth, watered-down powdered chocolate melt down my throat.
Susan giggles. “I’ve heard that before—mainly from my ex-husband, Ken. He was a total shit to me, but it’s okay, he got his.” She taps the side of her nose and I snort.
“He did, huh?” I take another mouthful. “Dear God, this is heavenly.”
“Oh yes, watched that selfish bastard getting eaten by a zombie or two. Oh, it brought me such joy to see him so miserable.” Susan gets a faraway look in her eyes, a smile playing on her lips, and I know—I just fucking know—that this woman is a hundred percent serious and possibly a little crazy. But hey, as long as I stay on her good side, I guess it’s okay. Plus, who am I to judge?
She throws some logs into the small fireplace and lights them. The fire take hold and begin to dance and flicker; orange flames lick the wood and spark and pop. I stare, transfixed by the fire as the hot chocolate warms both my stomach and the palm of my hand that holds it.
“Are you ready?” Susan’s voice interrupts my blankness.
I shake myself out of the weird starey thing I’m doing and take a last drink of the hot chocolate before putting it down on the wooden table next to me.
“Sorry, yeah, let’s do this.” I open the book, carefully handling the torn cover and trying to make sure my fingers don’t touch the zombie in blue overalls. It’s childish, but it looks like it’s banging on a brown front door much like the one to my own house, which kinda creeps me out even more. “I don’t get why you like this stuff.” I scowl, trying to read the author’s name on the front—T.W. something-or-other.
“Just read it or I’ll take the sweatshirt back,” she snaps, but there’s playfulness in her eyes—at least I sure hope that’s what it is. She could have slipped a bit of vodka in her drink, for all I know about her.
With a shrug I begin, somewhat reluctantly, reading what is literally my worst nightmare. As the pages turn, and the characters dwindle from either being eaten or turned into one of the living dead themselves, I begin to see what she means: when things get real bad for the characters in the book, we can take breaks, and we do. Some are for drinks and snacks, some are to top up the fire with fresh logs, and some are for bathroom breaks. Each time it becomes clearer to me not only how much I’ve missed reading, but that she’s right: reading about the zombie apocalypse is so much better than actually living it.
I thought it would be traumatic, but it’s not. In some ways, reading about it feels like we’re mocking it, having a pissing contest to see what’s worse—real life or this fucked up little book. Of course when the shit really hits the fan we can close the book, but in real life we have to keep on going. Keep on fighting, slaying, and surviving. Doing whatever it takes to survive.
I stretch out my back, feeling a couple of the bones pop and crack as I do, and take a good long drink of my water. My eyes are getting sore from all the reading, and my throat feels dry even after I drink, but I need to finish this last chapter; I need to find out what happens with the woman in the book—otherwise I won’t sleep tonight. Does she succumb to death like her husband did? Or does she make it to the safe haven?
However, at the end of the chapter it’s another cliffhanger, and I groan, knowing I won’t be able to read the next chapter tonight. I’ve been reading for two hours straight and I need to sleep. I look over at Susan, who’s curled up in a brown armchair by the fireplace, her head resting against a cushion, and realize that she’s sleeping. I curse myself for not realizing sooner.
I fold the corner of the page over and place it on the table, ready for tomorrow and I wonder where her other roomies are: Max and whatever the other one is called—she never actually told me, and of course I didn’t ask.
I slip on my boots and coat, grab my new backpack with all my new gear in it, and head out the door. I have no idea what time it is. It could be nine p.m. or it could be midnight—all I know is it’s dark and cold and incredibly quiet out here. I stand in the road and strain my ears for any sound, but after a couple minutes of the wind biting at my earlobes, I head home, the snow crunching under my boots and my chin tucked low to my chest.
After a couple of wrong turns, I make it back to our little house, go inside, and head straight up to bed. I climb the stairs, only slipping my boots and coat off as I enter the bedroom. I put them next to the bed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice; I guess old habits die hard—hell, better than dying…hard. I snicker at my own joke and then look at the empty bed, reaching my hand across the cold covers.
Mikey isn’t home and the bed looks kinda big and cold without him in it. My chest aches with discomfort, an oddness creeping over me. This is home. Mikey and I are…a couple. It all suddenly seems too surreal, too weird to be true.
Home.
Mikey.
I burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer. I cry for hours. I cry until my throat burns and my eyes feel like they are full of sawdust. I cry and wail for no reason and for everything. I cry to get it out of my system once and for all and then I cry until I fall asleep from the exhaustion.
And then I dream of struggling to survive in an apocalyptic world, only I can’t close the book on this life, this story. I’m the main character in it, and my life is forever trapped within the pages of this torment. I’m running, forever running to and from things, forever fighting and struggling and only just surviving.
I wake myself several times in the night, feeling the side of the bed for Mikey, but each time finding it empty. The last time I wake, the sun is beginning to rise and a faint glow shines through the curtains. I reach an arm out to Mikey’s side of the bed, my hand touching warm flesh. I shuffle over to him, draping an arm across his middle, and snuggle myself into his warm back.
Finally I’m able to sleep without feeling tormented.
Chapter 26
“So then this little fat teenage kid turns around and tries to take my gun from me.” Nova laughs as she spoons some more porridge into her mouth and quickly swallows. “So I turn around and give the little shit a good beating. The entire time he’s still trying to get at my gun. I’m like give it the fuck up! The little shit is clinging onto the barrel of my gun, and doesn’t let go until I break his nose, and then guess what he says?” She spoons more into her mouth, tossing her long red hair from back from her shoulder.
“What?” asks Max, the tall, blonde, Barbie wannabe, her pink lips pouting. She’s a little made up for my tastes, but that’s not such a bad thing, I guess; it’s just unusual in this world to actually give a shit about appearances.
Whenever we’re in the same room, she makes me question myself. It’s not her fault, it’s mine—and the world’s, I guess. Yeah, let’s blame the world, that’s a better pill to swallow. And to be fair, she’s really nice. Not too bright, but she tries hard. I mean, I wouldn’t want her on my team—girl can’t fight for shit, but she tries. Actually the more I think about it, the more I wonder how she isn’t dead. Then I see Constance staring doe-eyed at Max and know she’s the reason Max is still alive.
“He shakes his pudgy little fist at me,” Nova mimics, “and says, ‘lady, you’re just lucky that my crew ain’t here.’” Nova laughs loudly. In fact, the noise could probably be considered a guffaw. She stands up, placing a black-booted foot on her chair, and pulls out a twelve-inch hunting knife before slamming it down into the table. It wobbles but stays stuck up like a little flagpole. “I said, ‘little boy, you better run before I gut you and your moth
erfucking crew like pigs.’” She laughs again. “Kid ran off faster than his legs could carry him, went flying face first into the ground.” She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and shakes one out, lights it, and takes a long pull.
The entire table of women bursts out laughing—even Rachel cracks a grin, and that’s pretty much unheard of for her. Emily comes in holding hands with Alek, and she shoots me a smile before heading over to get some food. I smile back and yawn into my oatmeal.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you awake, darlin’?” Nova pulls her knife from the table and checks the tip of it.
“No, sorry, I’m just not sleeping too good. Mikey has been tossing and turning all night. It’s driving me mad.” I finish my oatmeal and down my water. “I’ll be glad when he’s on duty tomorrow night so I can get a full night’s sleep.” I yawn again.
I feel like a selfish bitch saying that, but it’s true. He’s had me up all night—and not for the right reasons—for the past couple of weeks. I don’t think I’ll get much sympathy from this table of women, though. How I came to sit with them, I’ll never know. They seem to be attracted to me like flies to shit—wait, that makes me sound like I’m shit, and that’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that I seem to be attracting more and more…what do you call those people that like to talk to you and have fun with you? Oh, yeah: friends. I seem to be making more and more friends recently, and that kinda goes against everything I believe in.
I have to admit, though, I do get the warm fuzzies that people seem to want to talk to me and not avoid me these days. There’s a lot of people here, and most of them I haven’t had the chance to really get to meet yet, but Nova is awesome and always makes me smile. Then there’s Jessica: she’s shy but friendly enough and seems to be good friends with Rachel, who has nearly as bad an attitude as me. Rachel hardly talks—she’s more of the silent brooding type—but wherever Nova goes, she seems to be. Then there’s Melanie: slim and cocky and likes to fight; if anyone around here is likely to cause trouble, I’m guessing it would be her. Then there’s Max and Constance. I don’t know if their relationship is a new thing or an old thing, but they seem happy and make it work. They’re both real pretty women, and Mikey has said a couple of the guys are upset by the fact they’re off the shelf as far as men are concerned.
“Hey! Eyes front: sexy pants at twelve o’clock.” Nova snaps her fingers in front of my face.
I come back to the present. “What?”
“Mikey.” She nods as Mikey heads over to our table.
Mikey comes to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I reach up automatically and touch his hand. “Nina, can I grab a word with you?”
“Sure.” I stand and nudge Nova’s leg as I walk away, making her stumble.
“Bitch!” she calls after me with a laugh, but she could be directing that at Mikey.
I really like Nova. She’s bad-ass, with long red hair that she always wears in a long ponytail. She kinda reminds me of an old Street Fighter character. She’s funny and really smart—like brain surgeon smart. Well, maybe not brain surgeon smart, but she knows a lot. We’ve become quite close, what with us both having the same sarcastic humor. Unfortunately, she’s very good friends with Rachel, and we still don’t see eye to eye on pretty much anything. There’s no bitchiness there; Rachel just keeps to herself, since she’s not much of a talker.
Mikey and I turn into the hallway outside the mess hall, the sound of overly loud women dulling as the door swings shut behind us. I turn to Mikey with a what’s up? expression.
“Zee wants you out on a scavenge today.”
I nod. “Okay.” I process the information and nod again. “Yeah, okay, I can do this.”
Mikey shakes his head and huffs at me. “No, you need to say that your shoulder isn’t right yet.” He frowns hard at me, as if I’m not getting the big picture.
“But it is okay. I mean, not totally, but I can shoot a gun, or drive. I just can’t get into any hand-to-hand trouble, and make sure that I do the exercises Becky gave me.” I frown back and grit my teeth. “Stop it right now. We’re not doing this again. You know I have to help out—hell, I want to help out—and I don’t need anyone babying me.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean against the wall with a roll of my eyes, feeling more like a teenager than a grown woman.
Emily peeks her head around the door. “Everything okay?” She scowls at Mikey, but smiles at me.
“It’s fine, go back inside,” I say with a nod. She scowls again and goes back to Alek.
“Nina, I’m not babying you, I just don’t want you to get hurt. It’s bad out there,” Mikey continues. He stands in front of me, so close that I have to look into his face. “Really bad.”
I roll my eyes again. “You’ve got to stop this,” I mutter. “I can’t keep doing this with you.” I sigh, long and hard. “If Zee says it’s my time to go, I’m going. You need to deal with that.” I push past him and head for Zee’s office.
Once outside I pull my hood up and scrunch my shoulders against the icy rain, and run across the frozen grounds to Wing HQ. We all know that supplies, while still looking okay for now, need to be constantly restocked. In the spring they’re hoping to plant crops in some of the unused parts of the base, like the outdoor rec center, but for now we need to grin and bear it and get through this winter.
It’s hit us hard and fast, and we had several weeks of not being able to leave the base other than to kill the deaders in the direct vicinity. Thankfully, the snow has backed off and allowed us to get back out there. Unfortunately, everyone out there is as desperate as we are—or perhaps more desperate—and people are turning even more vicious than normal.
Several times we’ve had people try and take gear directly from the truck. One particularly small but vicious group even tried to take the entire truck. Unfortunately, they didn’t count on Nova being there. Of course she showed them no mercy because of the savage beating they tried to give her.
I push open the heavy door to Wing HQ and head for Zee’s office. He’s normally there, going over maps and ration figures and ammo numbers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not working. I knock on the door and after a second the door opens. As predicted, he’s trawling over a large map that is spread across an unused desk.
“Nina, come in. How are you?” He heads straight back to his map and continues doing whatever it was he was doing previously.
“Good, thanks.” I follow him over. “Mikey said that I’m going out today?” I pose it as a question, though it’s not really one.
“Yes, that okay with you? Mikey wasn’t sure that you were ready.” He crosses a red X through a building and turns to me. “If you’re not, that’s okay. There’s no rush.”
“No, I’m fine about it. It’s Mikey who’s not.” I roll my eyes, though if I want to be really truthful, I should say that I’m obviously not okay with going out there. I mean, who would want to? Other than Nova, of course. And Michael. And possibly Rachel. Those three are all ex-army, or what little is left of the army here, give or take. They literally live for this shit, and would much rather be out killing deaders and stuff than counting MRE packs and ammo.
Zee places his pen down and rubs a hand across his face, looking wearily at us. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay to. You’ll be out with Nova and Michael, but maybe for your first I should send Rachel as well?” He thinks about it for a second. “Yes, all three can go. I’m sure all of you together will go far.” He smiles a tired smile.
I nod. “That’s great. I’m sure Mikey will be fine once he sees I can handle myself again.”
“I’m going too.” I turn as Mikey comes into the office, and I scowl when I realize that he’s more than likely been eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Mikey!” I snap, but have nothing else to add other than fuck you and get the fuck out of here. I don’t think Zee would appreciate either of those things, so I bite my tongue and scowl instead.
“I don’t think th
at’s a good idea, actually,” Zee says. His tone, as usual, is calm.
“That wasn’t a request,” Mikey bites out, his jaw grinding as he stares down Zee like he’s a playground bully.
“No, but this is an order: you are not going. You’re going to put my entire team and the mission into more danger with your over-protectiveness of Nina, and that I simply won’t allow.” Zee goes to sit at his desk, pulling out paperwork from one of his many overflowing trays. “Nina has stated that she feels well enough to go, I’m sending my three best soldiers, and we need you here, Mikey.” He looks up at us both, his expression softening. “I understand, Mikey. I do, but . . .” He seems to flounder for his words, so I decide to cut in.
“Stop being such an uptight asshole. I’m tough and I’m going,” I snap.
“Before we got here, we were being chased,” Mikey says hurriedly. “You heard of the Forgotten?” Zee nods and frowns. “We were their prisoners for a while, and now we’re on the run from them. They’ll do anything to get us back.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this until now?” Zee snaps. “Where was this?”
“You are such an asshole, Mikey!” I yell. “Really, this is how low you would stoop to stop me from going?” I kick a chair, sending it skidding across the floor until it bangs into the tables.
“It’s about seventy miles east of here, I think. I’m sorry.” Mikey runs a hand across the back of his neck. “We should have told you, but I’ll do anything to protect these women, and I didn’t want you asking us to leave. Especially not with the condition Nina was in.”
Zee rubs a hand down his face. “Do you think they followed you here?” he asks carefully.
Mikey shakes his head. “No. If they did, we’d know about it by now. In fact, I don’t think they have any idea where we are.”
Silence descends on the room, with only the odd mumble of annoyance from me. Zee stands and walks back around his desk, coming to stand in front of us both. “Well, I think we should be fine then.”
Odium II: The Dead Saga Page 18