Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[22] Exchange

With an invitation as animated as the girl herself, we followed Cassidy into the house. The inside was a cozy, rustic scene, slightly cluttered but clearly loved. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled to the brim with novels, biographies, and a smattering of manga. Against another wall was a sizeable gun cabinet, its glass doors showcasing an array of weapons that indicated Cassidy's passion for firearms.

She flopped onto an old leather couch, patting the space beside her, inviting us to sit. As Ms. Yan and I took our seats, a silence descended upon us - not an awkward one, but a serene, comforting lull that was seldom found amidst the calamity outside.

"So, where are you folks from?" Cassidy asked, breaking the quiet with her lively voice. She had a curious glint in her eyes, like she was genuinely interested in our story.

We looked at each other for a moment, deciding who should go first. Ms. Yan took the initiative, her usually composed features softening as she spoke. "I'm originally from China," she started, her voice holding a hint of nostalgia, "But I've been teaching Chinese in California for the past five years."

She spoke about her parents back in China, how she missed them, the students, her everyday routine. There was a palpable longing in her voice that tugged at my heartstrings. But through it all, she held her composure, presenting a picture of quiet strength.

My story was not as eloquent. I told Cassidy about my parents' small Chinese restaurant in the heart of California, how they were away on a cruise when all hell broke loose. I described my early morning classes, the late-night shifts at the restaurant, and the zombie apocalypse that turned our lives upside down.

Through it all, Cassidy listened attentively, her sapphire eyes alight with empathy and curiosity. She interjected with comments now and then, her questions thoughtful and her observations sharp. It was a strange sensation - to have someone listen to our story amidst all this chaos. But it was also oddly comforting.

As our stories wound down, a thoughtful silence descended upon us once again. For the first time since the apocalypse began, we felt like humans - individuals with stories and pasts, rather than mere survivors fighting for our lives.

In the quiet comfort of the living room, we returned Cassidy's earlier question, "Where are your parents, Cassidy?" It was an innocent query, intended to keep the conversation flowing, but it seemed to hit an unexpected nerve.

Cassidy's face fell, the vivacious energy that had been there a moment ago replaced by a hard, stony expression. She looked down at her hands, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch's cushion.

"Well..." she began, her voice no longer carrying the earlier enthusiasm, "They aren't around."

As the silence in the room deepened, she continued her story. Her words painted a picture of a life filled with instability and betrayal. She spoke about how her parents had abandoned her at a young age, the painful memories of being left alone in a world she was too young to navigate.

"My uncle took me in," she said, her voice growing stronger as she spoke of the man who had raised her. Cassidy's story unfolded like a novel, each chapter filled with trials and tribulations. Her uncle, a passionate hunter and gun enthusiast, had taught her everything she knew about firearms and survival.

"But he's gone now," Cassidy said, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. She didn't delve into the details, but the implication was clear.

There was a shared moment of silent understanding as we all took in Cassidy's story. The mood in the room was solemn, a stark contrast to the earlier energy.

In the silence, Cassidy finally looked up, a stubborn defiance in her eyes. "But I've been on my own before, and I can do it again," she declared, her voice firm.

Cassidy's eyes flickered with a spark of mischief as she rose from her chair and changed topics: "Come," she said, her voice regaining some of its previous energy. "Let me show you the basement."

The sudden shift in her tone caught us off guard. Curiosity piqued, we exchanged quick glances before following her out of the room. 

Q: Would you fortify your house or leave your house in a zombie apocalypse?