Chapter 3

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"What do you admire me for?" I finally ask.

"You can't stand the sight of blood, and yet you are the one taking care of everyone, of all the injuries," Nathan says.

"I got used to it. In the past, I used to faint every time I saw even a trace of blood. However, these days I only throw up if I see a huge amount of it, which is, unfortunately, more often than I would've liked," I say.

"That's just it. You are fighting through it and getting better at dealing with it," Nathan says.

"You fight zombies, save lives. That's far more important than me getting used to blood," I say.

"I am fighting with an external enemy. That's much easier than waging battles with yourself, with your own personal demons. I could never do what you are doing since I am terrible at dealing with emotional baggage," Nathan says.

I am lost for words. I have never thought of it like that and always saw myself as a weakling. The fact that he sees me differently, that he helps me see my better self through his eyes, means the world.

"Thank you," I finally say.

"For what?" He asks.

"For seeing worth in me when I couldn't," I respond.

If someone had told me that I would say something like that to a person I met a few hours ago, I wouldn't have believed them as I was always closed off, cautious. As it is, I say what I mean because there is no time for secrets, games, or unspoken words.

"You're welcome," he says with another beaming smile.

"How can you do that?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"Do what?" He asks.

"Smile like the world hasn't gone nuts. How can you find the strength?" I ask.

"If a day came when I couldn't smile while talking with a beautiful woman, I would know that I was dead inside. Then there would be no point for me to keep fighting. I am not interested in merely being alive, but in living," he says seriously.

I blush profusely and turn away from him, unsure what the reasons behind my embarrassment are. It might be that I am just so unused to compliments.

"We need to move. Jason won't set camp just yet. We have to put more distance between us and the zombies' new migration pattern." I say as I start walking a bit faster.

"I don't understand how Jessica missed it. She is usually very good at predicting their movements." I mumble under my breath.

"Sure," Nathan says, following close behind me.

As I listen to his confident stride behind me, I can't help but wonder what it is about this guy that makes me feel so comfortable, so protected... After all, I haven't felt safe since my roommate turned and attacked me.

I shiver as the recollection of her wild eyes overwhelms my mind. I barely manage to swallow the scream that has managed to build up. I don't want a repeat of the last time I let it all out, the way everyone else reacted. The way they started treating me differently as if something was wrong with me.

"Are you okay? You're shivering." Nathan asks, walking a bit faster to keep up with me.

"Are you cold? Here," he says, taking off his jacket.

That's when I start laughing hysterically, tears spilling down my face. Though I know that I look like a lunatic, I can't rein in my laughter.

"What? What did I say?" Nathan asks, confused by my explosive reaction.

"You...are..trying... to be a...gentleman... in the bloody apocalypse," I manage to say through my laughter.

"I guess that is a bit unusual." Nathan allows, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.

I know that my reaction isn't what he was hoping for, but I can't help it. I am unhinged. Ever since all this ordeal started, I've been balancing on the edge of sanity, and I am still not sure what'll tip me over into the abyss of no return.

"I am sorry. My moods have been all over the place with everything going on." I say, wanting to mend fences.

"I understand. You've been through a lot, and my actions probably seem ridiculous after everything you've seen.

"The thing is, I haven't completely adjusted to this new, zombie-infested reality," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, I've been held up in my family home since all of this started. This is the first time we've been far from home in months." Nathan says.

"Wow, how did you survive for such a long time all by yourselves?" I ask, stunned.

"We were isolated, and we grew our own food. We were self-sufficient so, we rarely needed anything beyond what we had.

"I guess being only around my parents, not interacting with other survivors, has left me unchanged. That's especially true when it comes to my manners, I think," Nathan says.

"That actually makes sense. You didn't learn the harsh realities of surviving on the outside. The detachments that people have developed with each other because they know that at any moment anyone can die." I say.

"I didn't, and I hope I never do. I think that because we know we can die at any moment, we should make attachments, enjoy the moments of being alive that we do get to share." Nathan says, taking my hand and pulling me to a stop.

For the first time in a while, I decided to look a person in the eye to see what Nathan's eyes are hiding.

When I do, I am left breathless. There is warmth in Nathan's eyes that I haven't seen since all of this started.

Also, I can see myself reflected in his eyes. However, it's not me that I often despise and consider useless but 'me' that he sees, the best version of who I can be.

"Professor, we need you," Jason says, appearing before us.

With a heavy heart, I hurry ahead to note that the others are already starting to set a camp, which is my cue to take care of the injured.

I take a deep breath to steady myself for what I might encounter and enter the already set up medical tent.

What I see has me looking to the side and wishing that I could teach rude children again. It would be a blessing in comparison to what lies before me.

For the first time, I feel lucky that I have already emptied my stomach. There is nothing more for me to throw up, though it doesn't stop me from feeling dizzy upon noticing blood pouring from Callen's foot.

What's odd is that generally, if someone is bleeding, they have been bitten, and Jason either leaves them behind or puts them out of their misery.

"What happened?" I ask, pretending I am okay when I clearly am not.

"This idiot shot himself while trying to kill a zombie," Jason says.

Considering Callen is only fifteen, I can't say that I am surprised by what happened. I've always thought that he was too young to be allowed to carry guns.

Of course, Jason doesn't care about that. All he cares about is having enough manpower to continue our journey.

"Patch him up the best you can, and then you can move on to some usual cuts and bruises," Jason says.

"Yes, of course," I say, trying to hold my breath.

Still, since breathing is necessary for living and all that, I can't hold my breath for too long. I have to face the strong scent of blood that seems to be the only smell left in the world, only blood, sweat, and tears.

The situation only gets worse as I lean over to take a closer look at Callen's foot while he screams in pain.

It's so difficult to deal with the mess that his shuttered foot is that I have to bite my lip to pull myself out of my dizzy state and help the poor kid.

With the twister in my head contained, I proceed to pull out the bullet while his friends hold him still.

That is when real hell begins for both of us.

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