To Be A Champion

Chapter 7: Fear of the Dark

I breathe in deeply, the air cold and crisp and painfully stinging my lungs. I can taste the coolness of it all. It reminds me almost like spring in Arkansas, just before the weather turns and begins to warm up, with the air becoming thick with humidity and heat, making you feel like each breath was laced with water. Just before that, it's cold, fresh, light, and yet somehow still feeling painful on your skin.

The cool taste on my tongue turns bitter as I grimace. I hate how much I've been thinking about Arkansas, America...

My mom.

I stopped getting homesick ages ago, at least with that home. I've long since come to accept that Abel is where I belong now. I miss it every day, and yet I can't stop thinking about where I came from. And I'm not sure why.

I'm even less sure why the thought of where I grew up brings me comfort instead of the longing I felt when I first came to England. The sickly-sweet sense of comfort only puts me more on edge, and the corners of my mind reach for something I can't quite grasp–a memory, perhaps? Or a vision.

The past and the future are often so twisted in this mind of mine.

As the sheep around us baa and the crowd of people around us chatter in anticipation to set out, I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I wish we could just hurry up already. Each second standing here feels like a second wasted. It's felt like this for the past three days we've gone out looking with the search parties.

The church bell rings as a last call to anyone who wants the join a search party.

"Oh, it's rather nice, isn't it, Five?" Paula's gray eyes scan out at the people on the village green, breath steaming in the crisp air and multiple mittened hands cupping mugs of tea. "It's how I used to imagine country life. I didn't imagine the gathering would be for a zombie hunt, but that's life for you. Reliably surprising."

I laugh lightly, reaching up to grab at my backpack strap. She slaps my hand down.

"Be careful. I don't want you messing with your bandages."

I roll my eyes but don't back talk since that would only make it worse. The pain meds have been doing well to keep me from focusing on my bullet wound too much, although the constant need to delicately clean and dress it every night is annoying. It isn't nearly as annoying, though, as when Sam refuses to hug me because he doesn't want to hurt me.

Static comes through the walkie-talkie in Paula's hand. "Oh, it's weird using a walkie-talkie. Uh, can you hear me properly?"

She raises the walkie-talkie up to her lips. "All clear, Sam. And this way, we can stay in touch with the other search parties."

"Aye, we'll make sure no one's left behind."

I jump at the sound of a new voice, and I spin around to see a man in his mid-fifties standing over me and Paula. Gray hair threads through chocolate brown locks, and deep crinkles crease around the corners of brown eyes. I take a small step back.

"Oh, um, hello," I say, staring at the stranger. Paula's eyes flash with recognition.

"You must be Shona's dad. You've got the exact same nose."

The man gives her a closed lipped smile. "Most folks in these parts call me Laird Reid, but aye. I'm Shona's father. It's good to meet you at last, Dr. Cohen. And Runner Five, correct? Shona's told me all about you."

"She... has?" Shona's barely spent any time with me, other than when we went on that last run or when we wave hello to each other while I'm strolling through the town with someone from Team Abel. If Laird Reid sees my brows creasing in confusion, he doesn't mention it.