Four unmarked survivors. One totalitarian government. A fight to keep their humanity intact.
100 years into the future, the E-91 virus has thrust the world into chaos.
For Rachel Wilson, survival hasn't come easy. For the last fifteen years, she's...
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"It's Hector's birthday today," Juan repeated.
Rachel stared at him like he had three heads while she racked her brain for something that would prove he was lying.
"You did know that, right?"
"Um..."
"Hold up, hold up, let me get this straight—you two will risk your lives for one another but you don't know each other's birthday?" Juan smacked his knee as he doubled over in a fit of laughter. "What species do you two belong in?"
"Oh, shut up." Rachel grumbled. She pulled the sheets out of the dryer within the tiny, squared laundry room and tossed them to him. He caught them with his face, effectively stopping his laughter, but doing nothing for the smirk still plastered on his mouth.
"It's okay, Ray, if there's a King of procrastination, it's me. I can help you plan something out last minute, I got'chu."
"He's just been so busy with flying lesson; I've hardly had the chance to talk to him."
"S'all good. I know what you mean. This is the first break I've had from those damned lessons and I'm so tired I could just lie down and sleep for days."
"Then what are you doing down here folding laundry? Go get some rest."
"Nah," He shrugged his shoulders. "I wake up nauseous every time. I swear, it's all this damn rocking—I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since we got here."
"Still, you should try."
"I don't want to waste any second of my life being asleep. Hell, we could all die tomorrow. Sleep can wait—finding someone to bone before the end of the world? That can't."
"Juan!" Rachel reached across the folding table to smack his arm.
He grinned crookedly and shrugged. "I'm a guy, you can't blame me. If I'm going to die, I might as well die happy."
"Gross, Juan. You have no filter, do you?"
"Nah," He'd gone back to wearing his hair cropped short and though he still looked a lot like his brother, he seemed different somehow, older. "Anyway, back to your birthday dilemma. What do you plan on getting him?"
"I don't know. I'm kind of short on options given that we're, you know, in the middle of the ocean."
"You could always give him a little special somethin' somethin'."
"Juan!" She slapped his arm again.
"Ow, what the hell, Rachel? I meant you could make something for him, you know, like with your hands—He's a big sucker for shit like that."
"Sure you did," Rachel rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "But I guess I could do that. Thanks Juan, you're a genius!" She ruffled the fuzz on the top of his head as she passed by him.
