Already, Greg could see that neither of his companions relished going back to their respective outposts, though Kyra appeared more apprehensive about it than Cage. Perhaps he was just better at hiding his feelings.
For once, Greg found a small blessing in his lost memories. He couldn't recall any great tragedies in his life. No lost love. No immense suffering or pain. That made him think about a question he hadn't considered until just then.
Why wasn't he more freaked out by all this?
Zombies were scary. Smart zombies were downright terrifying. When he'd awoken in a dead ship full of deader bodies, why hadn't he panicked more? When he'd encountered his first undead horror, why hadn't he simply froze, unable to comprehend what he was seeing? Just a few answers came to mind, but only one seemed to stick.
Greg now felt certain that he was a soldier. There was enough evidence to support this notion, but perhaps the biggest clue was that he hadn't lost his cool in a ridiculous situation. Was that an instinct? It must be, he realized. So he must be more than just a soldier. He must have a lot of experience in the field.
Breakfast came to an end. Greg remained brooding in silence as they disposed of their garbage. They'd already checked the base over and found no unwanted visitors before breakfast. The three of them loaded up into a pair of jeeps and pulled out of the garage, then took off into the infinite gray wastelands.
"What's on your mind? You look grim." Kyra glanced at him from her place behind the wheel. She'd felt it was her turn to drive.
Greg hardly registered the comment. After a few seconds, he finally caught it and glanced over. "Just...thinking."
"Well, no shit. Thinking about what?"
"Myself. My past. Will I ever get my memories back? I dunno. Cage said I shouldn't worry so much. I'm really tempted to believe his idea that my old personality won't suddenly reassert itself and I'll lose...whatever I am now. I like who I am now."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Well...I dunno. I'm not lazy. I don't panic. I don't really get angry. I feel...heh, it sounds crazy, but I feel competent."
"You are competent. Even without your memories."
Greg hesitated, staring at the floor for a moment. Then he glanced back over at her. "You really think so?"
"I know so. I personally think that maybe you should try not to dwell on it so much. I understand that would be really hard, though. I can't imagine how much of a mind-fuck you must be going through right now...but I see a lot of potential in you. Everything I've seen so far indicates that you're strong, smart, and capable."
"Thanks." It was all Greg could think to say in reply. Kyra didn't say anything in response, but he did see a small smile on her lips. She appeared focused on driving. He considered Cage's words from the night before.
Should he make a move? Things were tense enough, how much worse would it be if he did and she rejected him? Why fuck up what was shaping up to be (from his perspective, anyway) a nice friendship?
What if she was just waiting for him to say something? It didn't seem likely, but there was one thing that Greg seemed to recall. It was that men pretty much had no idea when it came to how women felt about them.
He sighed and opted to just stare out at the wastelands and watch the rain streak on the windows for now.
* * *
YOU ARE READING
The first novel in The Shadow Wars. How terrifying would it be to wake up with no memories? How much worse would it get if you happened to be in a crashed vessel full of corpses? For Greg Bishop, this nightmare has just become a reality. With nothin...