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Ten days in and nothing changes. I spend most of my time alone. When I have to, I'm either paired with Poundcake, who doesn't speak, or Teacup, who stares at me with admiration in her eyes. I'm not sure why. Maybe she thinks of differently because I'm the only girl.
I do everything in my power to stay as far away from Zombie as possible. Trusting and getting closer to him would be far more dangerous than anything that I had endured so far, so I don't speak to him. I listen to him only when I know I have to, and even then I don't do it without a quick snip in his direction. He just rolls his eyes in response because he knows I'll do it anyway.
I'm still about three seconds from punching either Tank or Flintstone. Tank, for his comments on my inability to do that stupid hold, and Flintstone for his unneeded sexual advances.
Like, no, Flintstone, I don't want to sit on your unibrow or go down on you in the shower. Stop fucking asking. Stop asking, please.
He tells Dumbo that he's just playing around whenever the younger boy gets mad at him for the demeaning things he says. I just silence Flintstone with a quick: "say another word and I'll slit your fucking throat with my fingernail."
That works every time.
It's free time when I lose my shit at Tank. He's saying something about how I'm dead weight when the side of my outstretched hand lands a chop to his adams apple.
He stumbles backward, clutching his throat. I'm heaving with anger as he stands up and tries to charge at me. "Shut the fuck up, Tank! I am so sick and tired of your shit!"
Flintstone grabs Tank and tugs him backwards before he can retaliate. Oompa stands in front of the boy to keep me from making another move on him, and Zombie pushes me back by my chest. He settles in front of me, face contorted into anger. "Damn it, Ghost! We talked about this!" He whips around to face Tank. "And quit it with your remarks! Saying that shit is not helping any of us!"
Nugget whimpers from behind me. Teacup keeps a weary gaze on Tank, who Flintstone is still holding back. The twelve-year-old thrashes in his arms.
"Tell that to her!" Tank shouts. "She's bringing us down in the ranks and it's like she doesn't even care!"
I lunge at him again. Zombie's arms wrap around my middle to pull me farther from the boy, but I land an elbow to his left side and he stumbles back, clutching his ribs. He seems to ignore the pain because seconds later he's back to holding me back. "Damn it, Ghost. Stand down!"
I grit my teeth and settle to tense limbs against his biceps. He doesn't move in fear that it is a faux relaxation. He's whispering calm orders into my ear as Dumbo tries to talk sense into Tank. Teacup doesn't seem to get the message because she's suddenly standing next to me with her hands on her hips.
"We're not even that bad in hand to hand, you idiot," she points out. "It's the shooting range, and you suck ass, so really, it's your fucking fault!"
"You little bitch!" Tank shouts, just as Teacup's fist connects with his jaw.
Nugget screams and Zombie calls for everyone to stand down while simultaneously moving to yank back Teacup. The little blonde is pulled back by me with a harsh yank to her shirt, her thrashing stopping seconds later.
"That's enough!" Zombie barks, face red with fury. "Everyone get back to your fucking bunks now!"
"No," I growl, taking a step forward. "Why the fuck should I?"
"Because that's an order, private," he growls back, taking a threatening step towards me.
I don't like this Zombie. I thought it would be an accomplishment to make the annoyingly hopeful boy mad, but I didn't like it. Zombie was the voice of reason. He took care of everyone and tried his best to keep everything in order, and to get us to graduate. He was trying his best and I was tearing him down. God dammit.
I turn on my heel and trudge back to my bunk, body tense. I sink into the bed and turn so I'm facing the top of Teacup's bunk. The girl climbs to her bed a second later, silent for once. Everyone else does the same.
My thoughts immediately drift to Zombie again. He got angry at me today, and not just his usual annoyed scowl but full blown pissed.
I didn't like it. I was supposed to be the one with no control over her emotions. If Zombie lost it, too, we'd all be dead.
I grit my teeth. I want to go over and mutter some half-assed apology so that maybe he calms down and doesn't lose his shit-- going Dorothy is what it's called here-- and kill us all in our sleep. But it doesn't seem like anyone else has the same idea and I definitely don't deserve to apologize when it was Tank's fault.
I end up falling into a dark abyss. It's the same nightmare I've been having for weeks.
There's water rushing past my waist as I cling to the tree that was keeping me from going away with the current. Dad is screaming, a strangled, gurgling sound as the water swallows him whole. Except, no, it's not water. It's red.
Blood.
The blood of Mr. and Ms. Abbott and Otis and Courtney and Thomas and Dad and Mom and the other billion dead in the second wave. That's when they emerge from the crimson, dripping and bright red and eyes wide with fear. They grab me, anywhere they can, and they pull me down, down, down until the blood is over my head and I'm choking on it.
And then I wake up, gasping for air and wishing I had died in the 2nd Wave with my father so I didn't have to watch the rest of humanity fall apart. Wishing that I had died with everyone else.
Wishing I was dead because there is no point in living when everyone else is already gone.
