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BEN
Ben paces on the rooftop, scanning the university campus with his binoculars. It’s been exactly one week since he fucked things up with Kate. His insomnia is at an all-time high.
He and Kate co-exist like they always have. They seem to have mutually agreed to pretend the kiss never happened.
Except Ben can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It’s all he can think about. He wants to ask for a do-over, but hasn’t the first clue how to go about doing that.
“What are you looking for?” Johnny asks. It’s his turn on watch, meaning he has to stick around even if Ben is feeling paranoid and decided to join him.
“I don’t know,” Ben replies.
He’s been fighting the itch for days. It has nothing to do with Kate. It’s not the normal kind of itching from a mosquito bite, either. It’s a buzzing in his gut, a sense that something in the world isn’t right.
A lifetime in the army has honed his instincts. He’s had enough bad luck to recognize when it’s looming around the corner.
What pisses him off is that even when he knows shit is about to go down, it often doesn’t do him a damn bit of good.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Johnny asks. He has his notebook open on his lap. How the kid can watch anything while he scribbles away in that thing is beyond Ben.
“I have a feeling.” Ben pauses, watching a group of eight zombies stumble their way through campus. He makes a mental note to tell Kate. A team should go out to dispatch them later today.
“Like, a bad feeling?” Johnny asks. “Like, a sixth sense?”
Ben lowers the binos with an exasperated grumble. “Exactly.” He resents the kid for his eloquence.
Johnny scribbles something in his notebook. “Tell me what it feels like.”
“No.” Ben returns the binos to his face, sweeping the fortifications around Creekside.
“Come on,” Johnny wheedles. “This is for posterity. You know I’m recording our life here at Creekside. Tell me what premonition feels like.”
Ben rounds on him. “It feels like shit is going to hit the fan and I don’t know how to stop it.” He glares. “It sucks balls, kid.”
Johnny grins at him. “I’m going to quote you on that.”
Letting out another huff of disgust, Ben tosses aside the binoculars and heads down the ladder. He knows better than to open his mouth around that kid.
“Bring up some dinner for me,” Johnny calls after him. “I hate cold food.”
Ben ignores him even as he makes a mental note to get food for Johnny. He stomps into the common room. It’s bustling with eighteen bodies, two of which happen to be kids who decided this crowded room was a great place to play tag.
Ben stands in the doorway, mouth twisting with distaste. It’s time to knock down some walls and make this dorm suite a genuine gathering space. It’s getting too damned cramped for his taste these days. He’ll talk to Kate and see about putting together a team to execute the remodel. It will be a good excuse to talk to her.
He finds Kate sitting at the kitchen table, chewing at her bottom lip as she fiddles with the receiver of the ham. At the look on her face, Ben feels his hackles rise.
Things might have regressed to a strictly professional level with them, but hell if he’s going to stand by and say nothing if she looks worried about something. Besides, the anxiety in his gut is expanding, making him even more edgy.
“What’s going on?” he barks, coming to stand beside the table. A few people glance up at his sharp tone. Ben realizes he’s switched into his military voice. “I didn’t mean to talk like a drill sergeant,” he says, attempting with moderate success to modify his tone.
Kate looks up with a wrinkled brow. “It’s Alvarez. He missed our regular check-in three days ago. He was supposed to check in this morning ...” Her voice trails off. “I’m just worried. That’s two missed check-ins.”
“It’s not the first time he’s missed a call,” Carter points out, pulling out a chair to sit beside his mother. “Stuff happens. I’m sure he’ll be in touch as soon as he can.”
Kate continues to worry at her bottom lip. “I just have a bad feeling, you know?”
“That makes two of us,” Ben mutters, turning away. His voice is lost in the general hum around them as Gary comes in off the balcony with a fresh pot of spaghetti, the sauce made from the first harvest of Lila’s tomatoes in the garden.
That night, sleep is impossible. His room feels cramped and stuffy. Between the itchy foreboding gnawing at him from the inside and endless thoughts of Kate, his head might explode.
He goes to the common room to get some water. Not that water will help him sleep, but he could use the distraction. He’s just grabbed a cup when the ham radio crackles with sound.
“Mama Bear, this is Foot Solider. Fort Ross to Humboldt. Is anyone there? Over?”
Ben jerks, knocking the ham receiver to the floor in his haste. Fumbling it into his hand, he answers.
“Fort Ross, this is Humboldt. Where the hell have you guys been? You have Mama Bear worried sick. Over.”
A beat of silence. “Who is this?”
Ben wracks his brain for a call sign. He’s never spoken to Alvarez on the ham before. He says the first name that comes to mind. “This is Word Smith. I live with Mama Bear and Wandering Writer.”
Word Smith? Where the fuck did that name come from? He’s the last person who should be using that call sign.
“We’ve been waiting for your call,” he says.
“Good to hear your voice, Word Smith. Shit has gone sideways at Fort Ross. We’re under siege.”
“What’s the sit rep?” Kate mentioned Alvarez had a military background.
“Word Smith, are you military? Over.”
“That’s affirmative. Thirty years of service. Over.”
“Thank fucking god. Maybe you can help us. Can you get Mama Bear? I don’t want to tell this story twice. Over.”
“Affirmative. Back in three. Over.”