| |
KATE
Caffeine.
Some days, there isn’t enough of it in the world.
Like today.
I down the last of the coffee, marveling that it stayed hot in the thermos for so long. I turn the black cylinder over in my hands, tracing an idle finger over the logo. YETI.
Sleep deprivation coupled with four hours of sitting on a roof in the cold morning has left me exhausted. I could have used three Yetis of coffee today.
I’m no thermos aficionado, but Ben clearly is. Why someone named a hot beverage container after the abominable snowman is beyond me. Ben did say something about Yetis being used for ice cream, so maybe that was the original intent.
I try not to think too hard on the fact that he thought far enough ahead to make me a thermos of coffee. We almost had a normal conversation before Caleb interrupted us. Ben often says rude and off-the-wall stuff—like that comment about my tan line—but then he counters it with sweet gestures, like the coffee.
I’m pretty sure there’s a nice man underneath the profanity and monosyllabic grunts. I’m drawn to those little bits of kindness I see. I wish Caleb had waited another five minutes, if only so I could have proof that Ben was capable of normal conversation.
“Hey, Kate.” Lila’s dark head pops into view as she climbs the ladder onto the roof. “My turn for watch. Ben says it’s time for you guys to go shoot things.”
I smile at the younger woman. Her dark hair hangs in a long braid down her back, a smudge of something on her cheek. It might be strawberry jam from her breakfast concoction.
She steps onto the roof, shoulders hunched. Even though there’s no way zombies can get her up here, she still looks around like a hunted animal.
“Ben really did say that.” Lila takes the chair next to mine, her tone dropping to mimic Ben’s deeper voice. “Tell Kate it’s time to shoot some zoms.” She frowns at me. “You look like shit. Did you sleep at all last night?”
I shake my head with a dry laugh. “Ben brings me coffee. Caleb brings me breakfast. You bring me a ‘you look like shit.’”
“I only mean that you have dark circles under your eyes. You don’t look like you got any sleep.”
I shrug. “It’s been warm. I’m still getting used to falling asleep without an air conditioner.” It’s partially true. Except that it never gets that hot in Northern California, not even in the summer.
In truth, I wouldn’t be sleeping well even if I had a pre-apocalypse air conditioner. Every time I close my eyes, my brain travels back to the night I murdered Johnson and his people. I see the ravaged bodies of those young, twenty-something men I drugged and killed with zombies.
Looking at Lila reminds me it was worth it. I did it for her. I did it for Carter, Jenna, Reed, Johnny, and Eric. I did it so they could live without the threat of Johnson hanging over them.
“I could make you some tea that would knock you out for a full night,” Lila offers.
I shake my head. “I prefer to stay away from that kind of tea.” Lila specializes in marijuana concoctions. Some of the other kids—mostly Reed and Eric—indulge in pot, but I prefer not to. “I have my own personal sleeping medicine. Have you seen the stack of books on my nightstand?”
Lila wrinkles her nose. “All that old stuff?”
“They’re called classics. Two pages in one of those books and I pass out cold.”
“If they’re such a good sleep aid, why didn’t you sleep last night?” Lila asks with an arched eyebrow.
Damn. Caught in a lie. I shrug with nonchalance. “I’ve finished all the ones on my nightstand. I need to get some new ones.”
Lila studies me with narrowed eyes, as though trying to ferret out my lie. I look back at her, determined not to reveal the real reason for my insomnia. No one made me kill Johnson. His death, and those of his people, are on my conscience. The weight is for me to bear.
Lila breaks eye contact, shrugging. “Suit yourself. You know where I live if you change your mind. Speaking of which ...” She fishes a small glass jar out of her backpack and holds it out to me. “Need some? It’s a fresh batch. The guys say you have a two-hour run planned today after shooting practice.”
“I’ll take it with me. Ash and Eric have both been complaining about sore muscles.” I take the jar of homemade cannabis salve that Lila made.
We all used to tease her about the stinky stuff. Now, after months of using it on our various achy body parts, we’re all fans of it.
“Did you give some to Johnny?” I ask. “He needs to keep it on his Achilles.”
“Yeah, I lathered him up as soon as I finished mixing this batch. He should be back to running in no time.”
I don’t reply. From my own list of extensive running injuries over the years, I know Johnny will be laid up at least six weeks with his Achilles tendonitis. The only time he gets to go out these days is for shooting practice.
I look across at the college campus of Humboldt State University. From up high, I can almost imagine the world hasn’t ended, that the world below isn’t filled with the undead.
But the sound of the zombies is constant. The moaning, the keening, the snarling. It never ends. New zombies arrive every day on campus. No matter how many we kill, there are always more.
Which is why Ben insisted we institute a twenty-four-hour watch post on top of Creekside. Remembering Johnson and the night his people found us and robbed us, I didn’t have to be asked twice before agreeing.
“You’d better go,” Lila says. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll finish and someone else can take over the watch.”
The only time Lila keeps watch is during shooting practice. Only because she refuses to leave Creekside. Hell, even getting her to agree to that had taken some persuasive powers. Johnny, with his injury, keeps watch when we train at the campus track.
“You should come with us one day. Just walk with us to the track. You know I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t secure.” It had taken us two entire days to clear the track and zombie-proof it.
Lila wrinkles her nose and looks away. “You just want to trick me into running.”
“Running would be good for you,” I agree. “We both know that.” But Lila refuses to exercise. All she likes to do is cook and tend to the indoor garden she and Eric built. She keeps watch now only because there’s no one else to do it, and her fear of someone sneaking up on us is greater than her fear of being on the roof.
“It’s not a way to live. Lila, I know it’s scary out there, but locking yourself up in Creekside isn’t the answer. You have a life to live. It shouldn’t be within the confines of this single building.”
She shrugs, still not looking at me. “It’s not the answer for you. It’s working alright for me.”
“Just think about it.” I reach across the distance separating us and squeeze her shoulder. “Think about coming out with us one day. We’ll keep you safe. You’ll see it’s still worth being a part of this world.” I raise a teasing brow. “There’s a big marijuana plant growing beneath the bleachers at the track. Just think of all those buds waiting to be harvested for your salves and concoctions.”
“I’ll think about it.” Lila’s eyes flick in my direction then back out to the campus. “You’d better go. The troops are no doubt getting restless. You know how they are when they want their Mama Bear.” She gives me a quick smile at the use of my nickname.
I give her shoulder one last squeeze before heading to the ladder.
“Kate?”
I pause, turning to look back at Lila.
“I know I’m fucked up,” she says. “I know a screw came loose in my brain when the world ended. Thanks for giving a shit.”
I smile warmly at her as I step out onto the ladder. “You’re part of the Creekside Crew, Lila. I’ll always give a shit.”