The Infected

[15] The Infected

We soon found ourselves back in the makeshift living room. It was dead silent. I could still hear a vague ringing in my ears from the events of the day. I looked, really looked, at the space in its entirety. The couches looked old and worn, the table was scratched, and there was a rather large blood stain on the wall now.

A room conducive to insanity.

Mark and I silently made our way to one of the couches. We sat and appreciated the lack of calamity in the room. How long had it been since we could just sit like this?

Never. Not together. The thought just reminded me of how little I knew about him. Well, this had to change.

“So, we’ve spent about a week together, and you’ve saved my life on multiple occasions. The only thing I know about you is your name. Let’s fix that,” I said, looking pointedly at him.

He had been observing the room as well, but his gaze finally fell on me.

“What would you like to know?” he inquired.

“I don’t know. Where were you born? What was your life like before... this?”

He frowned slightly, observing his hands.

“Around here. I was born, I mean. I was born around here. A bit north of Los Angeles. Let me see... I had a sister. Parents loved each other. Well, until they didn’t anymore. They divorced sometime around my sophomore year. I’m seventeen, by the way. Senior now. Um. Sister’s gone now. Don’t know about the cousin...” he trailed off, met my eyes, and looked away again. He seemed to be focusing on the wall in front of us.

I frowned and touched his arm lightly. “This has been difficult for you. For all of us. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be sorry. Really, it’s whatever. Shit happens. I’m just glad I took those combat classes.” He looked at me again. “I took combat classes, by the way.”

I half-smiled. His story seemed rather... varied.

“Did you have a lot of friends?” I inquired curiously.

“Yeah. I do-- did. I used to, I mean. Enough about myself. My life is, er.. was boring. Ish. Let’s hear about you, Celia.”

Now it was my turn to avert my gaze. My life was incredibly boring before this.

“Um. I was born around here, too. I had two parents and my brother. You already met my best friend. I’m sixteen. I excelled in school. My family loved me and stuff. And I was pretty good at archery. That’s about it.”

I looked back at him, sick of hearing myself speak already. His life was infinitely more interesting than mine.

“I’m sorry you had to lose all of that,” he said gently.

“It’s okay...”

I looked away from him, then back again. Our proximity was increasing.

God, it should be illegal to have such perfect eyes. His eyebrows were strong, but somehow, well-maintained. He had a nose that looked as though it was chiseled by Michelangelo himself. And his lips, oh, his lips...

We were just inches away when he smiled. “Well, I’d better be off to bed. Good night, Celia.”

I wanted to smack him. He must have noticed my facial expression because he laughed softly. I tried to compose it to something civil.

“Good... night,” I said, and he was gone.

***

I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Does he like me? I wondered. There was no way to be sure. What if he was just pretending to? Why would he even do that? There was a zombie apocalypse occurring. And I was wondering whether or not the guy who saved me had romantic feelings.

Damn these hormones, I thought, before rolling over and falling asleep.