Annihilation

Lessons & Love

Namjoon gave assignments to everyone that helped me develop the skills I needed to survive. Namjoon taught me everything he'd learned about the undead, how to kill them, where to strike, and the process of transition. He brought me notebooks that detailed his findings, a particular focus on the impact of a bite or scratch and observations he made about decomposition of the undead.

Yoongi introduced me to every weapon they had access to. He kept a spread of guns that were rolled up into a fabric holder he could carry on his back, but primarily used a katana that he found on display in the dean's office before they fled Harvard. He taught me to shoot, first at old cans that he lined up on a board and then tied to a rope to swing from tree branches until I hit the mark nine times out of ten. He schooled me on building a makeshift shelter using tools available from the earth and on early mornings when I wasn't training with one of the others, I joined him for yoga at sunrise.

Jin would have chosen to become a farmer if his family hadn't expected him to pursue medicine. Still, he never gave up studying horticulture in his free time, and I was thankful for it as he talked me through the process of gardening, helped me identify berries and plants found in the woods by the prison, and connected everything to the body. He taught me everything he knew about the earth's natural healing properties and the basics of first aid, putting together rhymes, corny jokes, and acronyms that helped me remember every lesson.

Once Namjoon felt more secure in my defense against the undead, he had me join Hobi and a few others as they combed the areas surrounding the prison, mostly deserted trailers and old sheds tucked away in the forest. With Hobi, I learned that everything around me was a resource and that small acts of connection still mattered. Though he typically used a crowbar against the undead, he utilized anything he could get his hands on as a weapon, enjoying himself as he wielded fire extinguishers, long planks, or broken pieces of metal to smash skulls. The side of him that showed excitement in killing initially made me a little uncomfortable, until he approached me after a run where he picked up menstrual products for me without question. A week later he found a pin of a yellow butterfly that he clipped to my dress, revealing that he made sure to bring back a gift for someone he cared about on every run.

Jimin was the most mysterious of them all and I discovered that it was intentional. Under his friendly smile and innocent eyes was a charm that may have been his biggest asset. Most people wouldn't guess that the guy with the smallest stature of the group would be the most lethal and skilled fighter, but I quickly learned it as I transitioned from boxing and instincts with Jungkook to knowing how to kill with my bare hands from Jimin.

Taehyung was an expert knife thrower and trained me so that I was as close to his accuracy and speed as possible, even with one hand. He crafted holders for knives that I strapped to my thighs and ankles, my body and mind becoming carriers of tools for survival by the time I felt some of the power Jungkook spoke of.

Then there was him, who apparently mastered it all. Unlike the others, I couldn't identify a few things I learned from Jungkook because he boosted it all, making sure that I perfected everything, sometimes so pushy that we butted heads. He never let my protests against another set of pull-ups or one more practice shot get to him, insisting that he didn't care if he had to be the receiver of my attitude as long as I stayed alive.

In moments where Jungkook and Jimin worked me out so hard that I barely had any energy left for the day, or when my head hurt from all the information the eldest men in the group threw my way, I wondered if it was worth it.

The only thing that kept me going in the beginning was my wish to see Shelby again. I knew that if she was still out there, she'd find a way to get back to me. I could tell the others weren't as optimistic, but they didn't voice their doubt that my hope would result in a happy ending.

It didn't take long for them to become seven more reasons that made life worth living. There was nothing I loved more than to watch the typically serious Namjoon and Yoongi laugh and joke with the others, with a dimpled grin and gummy smile that would never erase from my memory. Jin kept me in a continuous stream of laughter and Hobi's constant humming gave me back a little piece of music. Jimin was the best hugger of the group and Taehyung's innocent desire for small acts of physical touch healed me in ways I couldn't fathom, a reminder that I could be touched without malice.

I had to tuck away the clinical part of my mind, telling me that I was becoming too dependent on Jungkook, but he always did a little more than the others. After nights when I was tormented by nightmares I'd wake to find him asleep with his head leaning against the bars to my cell. He insisted that I take priority when the others fought over who would get the first shower once the water system Namjoon built was finished. When he sensed that I was feeling down he made sure I had something beautiful to hold on to, a flower he plucked from a nearby field, crystals that he picked up from the edge of streams, and when he had nothing material, the stars.

Even after my attempt to ignore it, he brought my outburst during the alarm back to my attention, finally having slowed down after countless laps around the yard. "What happened that day, with the alarm?"

I took a minute to catch my breath and he laughed when I pulled the hem of his shirt to my face, using it to wipe my sweat before sitting against the side of the building to rest. "Jimin said I was screaming?" I questioned, recalling his observation.

Jungkook nodded, waiting while I processed. "It took me back to when the riot started and everything that happened after." I thought. "I don't know why I would scream though because I never screamed. I just waited and hoped for someone to come save me."

"I wish we would have been here sooner." He slipped his hand into mine.

There were always moments when I flushed with memories of the trauma or the past, leading me to scream into my pillow or sob while I made him pretend not to watch, but today I was feeling powerful and I needed that feeling to stay. I stood, reaching out a hand to help him up. "You weren't in control of that." I countered. "And you also won't be in control when I dust your ass on the way back to the unit." I let go of his hand just in time for him to fall onto his butt, sprinting back toward the entrance of the prison.

"Cheater!" He yelled out as he stood, our laughter echoing through the cleared halls of the place we made home.