Gasoline | Ben Parish

9

THAT night, I skip extra practice. I take special care in shining my boots. I make sure my uniform is perfect. I choose to take a long shower. Usually we wash up briefly in the morning. But I need to be alone for just a little while longer.

I stand under the water, letting it drum on the back of my neck. It's always cold. At first the chill bothered me. Now I'm used to it. My skin goes numb within seconds. I rest my forehead against the wall and let the cool water work magic that hot water in the good ol' days never could.

Flintstone, Tank, and Oompa are the only ones who didn't go to extra practice tonight. They usually never go. I told them that I was showering and that I didn't want to be disturbed. The edge in my voice made it clear to them that I wasn't joking. Thankfully, they have enough sense to listen.

That's how I know how long I've been in – the three guys have already turned out the lights and laid down.

I keep my eyes closed and focus on my breathing. I wish these shower stalls had curtains. Privacy doesn't exist in the military. It especially doesn't exist when you're in the military during the apocalypse.

I hear the rest of Squad 53 enter about an hour later. Dumbo and Nugget are chatting casually. Teacup is letting out exaggerated yawns. Zombie is telling them that they did a good job, to go ahead and get to bed. Then he's asking about me. He notices my bed is empty. Flintstone grunts something that I can't make out. "Shower," more than likely.

Footsteps entering the bathroom. I squeeze my eyes tighter together.

"Hey, Croak?"

I sigh and turn my head underneath the heavenly spray.

Zombie is standing at the edge of my shower stall. His face is almost parallel with the ceiling, eyes jumping from light fixture to light fixture in an attempt to not look at my naked, wet body. "I just wanted to check on you."

I don't say anything. I dare him to look at me.

"It's getting late," he tries again. He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing as I turn towards him completely. He's straining, clenching his fists at his sides before letting them loose, not wanting to give anything away, fighting for self-control.

I prop an elbow against the wall, resting my head against my hand, waiting.

"Look, you've had a rough day..."

My hand comes down on the faucet hard. The water comes to a squealing stop.

"And I just think that you need to get some good sleep..."

I step out of the darkened shower stall and into the light. He closes his eyes tightly.

"And that maybe tomorrow will be better..."

I reach around him, bare chest pressing against his as I snatch my towel. It's like he's not even there. That's what I tell myself anyway. I'm mad at him. He's not here. But I can tell from his body language that he's very aware that I'm here.

"And..."

I rub the towel across my upper arms, moving down my body to harshly scrub the water from my breasts, stomach, and hips. I hear him swallow hard. His eyes are open now, still gazing at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"And..."

I turn my back to him, trying to make it clear that I'm ignoring him. I bend at the waist to roughly dry my legs. I hear his breath catch. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best idea.

"And..."

I flip my hair down, squeeze the water out, flip it again.

"And if you're not still mad at me, then maybe during extra practice I can help you with the hold."

I straighten abruptly. What a kind offer. So nice of him. I shove the towel into his chest, causing him to stumble slightly. This time, when I reach around him to get my underwear, he back peddles. As I shrug into my shirt, he goes to put my towel in the hamper.

The distance and the clothing clinging to my still-damp skin seem to have strengthened his voice. "Are you seriously going to keep this up?" he asks, meaning the silent treatment.

I just walk past him and flip the lights off in the bathroom.

When we enter the main room of the Barracks, it's like a monkey just popped out of an air vent and started tap dancing in the middle aisle. Everyone is gapping at us.

"You went in there?" Flintstone is the first to fire off, directed at Zombie. "While she was naked?"

"You saw her while she was naked?" Tank echoes.

"No," Zombie snaps. "I just went in there to talk to her – well, try to talk to her."

Nugget is kneeling on Zombie's bed. For the past three nights, he's been sleeping in the same cot as Zombie. It keeps him from crying. I hope Reznik never finds out. Can you imagine the stuff he'd say? "Why are you mad at Zombie, Croak?"

Teacup hangs her head over the edge of the bed. "I'll tell you why." She dangles her face in front of mine as I slip under my covers. "It's because she wants to have-"

I reach over and give her hair a solid yank. She yelps and flings herself back up in the bunk. But hey – she doesn't finish her sentence.

"She wants to have what?" Nugget innocently asks.

"Nothing," Zombie assures him as he crawls into bed.

Dumbo backs Zombie up, "Don't worry about it, Nugget. Teacup doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Yes I do," she pitifully calls. She doesn't pop that head up, though. I wonder how hard I actually pulled.

Oompa snorts. "No you don't." He says from across the way.

"I do too."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do."

Tank groans loudly. "Oh my God, shut up."

Oompa props himself up on his elbows. "If you know what sex is, Teacup, then tell me. Tell me right now. What is sex?"

"Well," she begins. "It's when Zombie puts his-"

"Hey, hey!" Dumbo hollers.

"-in Croak's-"

"That's enough over there!" Flintstone scolds.

"-and then-"

"For the love of God, Teacup, shut up!" Tank shouts.

Everyone goes silent. Tank was a little too loud that time.

Instantly, we're all scrambling to wedge ourselves under the blankets, trying to look passed out. Zombie pretty much throws Nugget back to his bed, and the little guy hurriedly jams himself under the tight sheets.

No one says anything. We all hold our breath, waiting.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Oompa's the one who declares it safe. "Well," he says softly. "I guess you really do know what sex is, Teacup."