What Becomes of Us

Day 2

Selena Perdomo wasn't taking the zombie apocalypse too well.

For one, she was forced to sleep on the cold ground of an abandoned building, and now that it was morning her back was stiff and aching. It was raining outside, and the moisture seeped into the room, making the ground slick. The windows in the room beside her rattled over and over again. She wasn't sure if it was the wind or a mass of monsters who had once been human. She didn't want to find out, either.

And then there was the matter with the other survivors. Communicating with them was a bit of a hassle for Selena. Mostly because she only knew how to speak Spanish. She was a recent immigrant from a small town on the northern border of Mexico, and English wasn't exactly her strong suit. That posed a problem when she had to survive with a bunch of home-bred Americans whose experience with Spanish most likely did not go far beyond high school level.

But worst of all was the way they looked at her. The way they tried so hard to act normally (well, as normally as the end of the world would allow) and yet kept giving her sidelong glances.

Well, no. Describing it like that wouldn't be fair to them. They weren't exactly looking at her.

They were looking at the bite mark on her upper arm.

"¿Por qué yo?" she mumbled to herself.

Diane Pyenson felt they must have seemed terrible to Selena, what with the way they were looking at her. The poor girl seemed so scared all huddled up in the corner. She couldn't blame her, they were all scared. No one had expected such a catastrophe to occur.

Diane stood up and proceeded to the corner of the room, sitting down next to the girl. She smiled warmly as she was given a cautionary glance while she approached.

"Hola! Buenos dias! Um, how's your arm feeling?" she asked.

Selena eyed the lady next to her. Her name was Diane, right?

She was able to translate English fairly well, so she understood what was being said to her. Speaking was another story.

"Ah... picante," she said softly.

Diane had a blank look on her face. Was she unable to understand her?

Confused thoughts were racing through Diane's brain. Picante? Didn't that mean spicy? Her Spanish wasn't all that great, she'd be the first to admit that, but she was pretty sure picante meant spicy! What did that mean? Was her wound burning? Was it like someone had cruelly rubbed jalapeno hot sauce all over it? The poor girl! The way she kept up such an air of strength despite being in such agony! It was heart wrenching!

Diane suddenly threw her arms around the girl and squeezed her in an airtight bear hug, pouring all of the empathetic feelings she had into her expression.

Selena didn't know why the woman looked like she was about to cry. Or why she was currently trying to suffocate her with affection. All she said was that it was itchy.

Diane retracted herself and held Selena out at arm's length. Tears really were flowing down her face.

"It's alright," she said, blubbering. "I know it hurts, but we're in this together! We'll help you with anything you may need."

Yeah, she probably didn't understand what Selena actually said.

"Ahh... pi...picante," she said again, trying to convey her true feelings. She made a scratching motion over the bandaged wound, careful not to actually touch it.

Diane's eyes widened slightly in realization. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I understand! Right, of course, that arm of yours must itch terribly. Let's get those bandages changed then, shall we? Lee, could you bring some water and bandages over here please?"