To Be A Hero

Chapter 23: Blink

I hum softly to myself, my eyes closed as I lean back in my chair, my book laying closed in my lap. I can feel the warmth of the nearby fire, and even with my eyes closed I can practically see the flames rising slightly before disappearing altogether.

It's peaceful, quiet. It's unlike how I spent the day before my last birthday. I don't like to think about last year.

A year ago Caleb was alive.

How quickly things change.

My eyelids flutter open, and I lazily scan the library, noting that it has changed since last year as well. Most of Abel has improved greatly since I first got here two and a half years ago.

I want to laugh. Has it only been two and a half years? It's odd. Feels like it's been longer.

But no. I was fifteen and a half when I came to Abel. I was a young girl, cold hearted and terrified to get attached, determined to keep my distance. I didn't end up doing that though.

I failed so terribly at that, which is odd considering how easily I did it at Mullins. The only people I let in while there were Anna and Josh, and Josh was only someone I'd talk to on a bad day or something.

But here I am, having three adopted kids-one being deceased-having met someone I'm now hopelessly in love with, and having many friends...

I've lost a lot of them though.

And taking down two major bad guys in that short amount of time must be some new kind of record, right?

I remember what Kendra said to me when I was running with Maxine, how that, whoever I was, I couldn't have expected to be this much of a hero. Maxine said the same thing when we were headed to Buckingham Palace in order to get Jaime to help us defeat Moonchild.

They're right. I wasn't expecting this. On my way to Abel in that chopper, I simply wanted to do my job and get back to Mullins. Project Greenshoot is nothing more than a faded memory now, along with the Major and the Meyers Spray and...

I close my eyes, running my hands through my hair as bitter laughter escapes my lips. Trivial. That's a good word to use when thinking of our past problems.

Slow shambling zombies were what we worried about, only fast after they first turned and then growing slower and slower. Funny how the slow ones were the ones that killed more than half the human population. Not the fast zoms, not the S-types, no. Just the slow ones.

They were what we worried about. Our only real thought was surviving.

Now we actually have a chance for a cure, five and a half years after the apocalypse.

Funny how things change over time.

Funny.

I never thought I'd use that word to describe the events that have conspired over the past few years. Sad, painful, confusing-those are words that fit more properly, but I don't see it that way, not like I used to.

I still hurt. I still feel guilt and self hatred, but it doesn't threaten to consume me like it used to. There's no burning hatred inside me, gnawing at me when it's quiet, when I'm alone. I don't feel as bad as I used to, as guilty, as closed off.

I'm not okay. I know that. I've got some serious mental issues that I'm going to need to get help for once this is all over, but I'm better than I used to be. Sure, I have anxiety now and have to use an inhaler at times, and I'm slightly traumatized from Simon and Sarah and Moonchild and Archie and Caleb and Willis all dying, but... I think I'm doing better. I really do. I really hope I am.