3 | We Who Survive the Apocalypse | ✅

Chapter 33 - Drinking

"As much as I hate to admit it, it's not really my decision to make," Ellie says as she walks quickly along the Wall.

"But, you're the leader, surely—"

"A good leader listens to their people," she interrupts Doyle firmly. She halts suddenly, and I nearly bump into Doyle as she turns to look at us, sighing. "Look, what Rogan did was brash, and while I would've rid the world of Matt and Hattie myself if he hadn't already done it, many people here don't agree with it."

"But they almost killed Mara," I say, "don't people know that?"

"They don't believe it," Ellie replies. "I'll see what I can do, okay? Now, I've got some other business to attend to, go back to your house."

With that, she walks away, leaving Doyle and I standing beside the Wall, not knowing if we made things worse for Rogan, or better.

"Well, that went well." Sarcasm drips from Doyle's voice as he turns and begins walking back toward Mrs. Norris's.

I hurry to catch up with him. "It sounds like she'd free him if she could."

"But that's the thing," he says, "she should be able to. She runs this place."

"Maybe she's keeping him locked up for his own safety. It might turn into a big, violent dispute, like with Seth."

"I don't know." He sounds tired. "I just know that we need to get him out of there. Mara needs him."

"Yeah, I know. But she seemed better today, didn't she? And Hudson stays with her, at least she's not alone."

He sighs, looking over at me as I walk beside him. "When I was separated from you for all that time, I was constantly afraid that I'd ever see you again. She doesn't need to be dealing with that fear right now. If she's worried about him, she's not focused on getting better. It won't end well."

His words ring true, and it frightens me. I felt the same way when he was gone: terrified. I could barely function, or focus on anything else.

"But we probably need to keep our mouths shut now, or Ellie'll keep locked up just to spite us," Doyle adds, and I nod.

"It's a good thing Izzy doesn't like him, or she'd be threatening to kill everyone."

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly. "True." His hand gently slips into mine, and we walk back to the house in silence.

+++++

I wake with a jolt, cold sweat coating my skin and my heart pounding in my throat. I'm trembling, gasping for air, feeling so afraid, and I don't know why. I don't remember having a nightmare.

I sit up slowly, rubbing my hands over my face, wiping away the sweat and the tears that have escaped my eyes. I don't know what has caused this.

A glance to my side reveals Doyle sleeping calmly, facing away from me. Still trying to calm down, I consider waking him, but I just can't bring myself to do it. He needs as much sleep as he can get.

Carefully, I pull back the covers and swing my feet onto the carpeted floor, trying to stay silent as I creep across the room and out the door. Once I'm in the hallway, I walk a little faster, heading down the stairs. Halfway across the living room, a voice startles me.

"What're you doing down here?"

I turn to see Izzy sitting next to the window, silhouetted by the moonlight, holding a glass bottle in her hand.

"Can't sleep," I reply, walking over to her. "You?"

She shrugs. "I was sleeping. Deep, too. But I kept dreaming about stuff I don't wanna dream about." She pauses, clearing her throat before offering me the bottle. "Whiskey?"

My eyes widen in surprise, though I really should have expected something like this. It is Izzy, after all. "Uh, no thanks."

"Yeah, you seem more like a 'glass of warm milk' kinda person." She takes a swig. Then another. "This stuff makes me pass out into blissful, dreamless unconsciousness."

I sit down beside her, cross legged. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "Ain't no use. It ain't going away." She looks out the window, the silver light catching her eyes, and I'm surprised to see them shining with tears. "I've been through some shit, y'know? Before and after this whole apocalypse thing. It kinda made me better, stronger. But mostly it just fucked me up a lot."

A wry laugh escapes me. "We're all fucked up, Izzy. Just in different ways."

She shrugs. "Seth's not. Not really. He's too good for me."

I'm taken aback by how open she's being. "No, he's not. You're good, too, Izzy."

She scoffs. "Am I? I've killed people, lotta people. 'Course, they were all mostly shitty people, but still." She swipes a hand across her eyes. "Sorry. I'm drunk. I talk too much when I'm drunk. That's the only thing I don't like about drinking."

"And it also destroys your liver," I say, forcing a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"Who needs a liver, it's the fucking apocalypse." She drinks again. "Sure you don't want any?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I reply, looking out the window at the full moon. It's almost too bright to look at directly.

"Good, 'cause honestly, I don't wanna share," She tells me, taking yet another swig.

That actually makes me laugh. Typical Izzy.

"Well, I'm gonna go get some water," I say, pulling to me feet. She just keeps looking out the window, even as I leave her, and when I'm done in the kitchen and come back through, she's still there.

That bottle in her hand is her only weapon against the ghosts of her past.

+++++

Whew! Okay people, this will probably be the last chapter for a while (yeah, what's new?) but I'm currently moving to another state *gasp* so I'm hella busy and tired and ugh. Yeah.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed a long chapter for once. See yah ✌️

P.S. This is isn't the last chapter of this book. I have more planned. I just won't be able to update for awhile cuz I'm moving. I basically already said that. Whatever, I'm tired. Byeee