On our way inside headquarters, we're met with smiles and salutes. You'd almost think I was the general now the way people are acting when they see me. A few people are still a bit scared of me and of any other returned, but most of them seem to have established that I'm not going to eat them. It's weird that so many know my name now. And they know Cory's too. They all know who we are. I guess we're the closest thing our world has to celebrities now as odd as that sounds.
When we enter headquarters, my dad meets us straight away. He sends Cory and Jason away, telling them to go to the western part of the perimeter fence. It's the weakest point and we always patrol that part twice as often as anywhere else. I can see Cory isn't happy with the idea of leaving, but he keeps his mouth shut, and follows Jason as ordered.
Left in the room are my dad, myself, and Isaac. He must have something to do with whatever it is my dad wants to tell me. He takes us further inside, to the situation room, where my mother pats my back as she walks past us, busy with something else.
My dad doesn't waste any time and gets straight to the point.
"I have reason to believe these rebels are operating from the rehabilitation center," he reveals and runs his finger over the map we have had drawn up of camp. "I have asked Isaac to monitor the situation in the streets, but I need another inside man in the center."
I nod. "What do you need me to do exactly?"
Then he explains. The plan is quite simple. I'm going to be sent to the rehabilitation center and I have to try and mingle to see if I can learn anything of interest. I'm the obvious candidate since I am the only returned in my dad's circle of command. For now. It's a big responsibility and I agree on the spot and listen to Isaac's briefing on living conditions in the center. I know the basics, but Isaac gives me more details. Lately, he has been indispensable to my dad because he is a master in gaining information around the streets of our camp. So in other words, he is good at sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. It's a very good set of survival skills in this world. I have nothing but respect for Isaac, especially for all his help several months ago with convincing my dad that he shouldn't kill me, but listen instead. Isaac is a small guy, who is not only good at gathering information, he also knows how to blend in and not get seen around the streets. He has one of those innocent faces, too, which makes him look several years younger than he actually is. The perfect little spy. You wouldn't suspect him.
Apparently, I'm due to arrive at the rehabilitation center in a couple of days' time, my dad informs me. Of course, I'll have to lose the uniform while I'm there. Otherwise, it might be a little difficult to get anyone in there to trust me with any information. It's gonna be strange to wear civillian clothes since I almost always wear my uniform. And maybe, just maybe, I'm a little concerned about going to the rehabilitation center. The people there are still in treatment and in various stages of returning to life. I don't like being confronted with that. It's enough that I have to face it every morning when I look in the mirror by our bed.
CORY'S POV:
I hate being blocked out from the conversation between Jay and General Alden. I want to know what it's about, but I know better than to argue with the General. If possible, he's more stubborn than Jay. It definitely runs in the family. I don't know why Jay insists we can trust Peter and his friends. I think their entire arrival seems suspicious and it bugs me that I seem to be the only one who thinks so.
I head out on the ordered control run with Jason, which is basically just a ride up and down the fence to check everything is in order at the western bit. I drive and Jason sits next to me, his gun in hand. He fumbles with it, not being his usual alert self when patrolling.
I frown. "What's up with you?" I ask him.
He tries to act as normal as possible, but his baffled expression gives him away.
"It's fine, it's just something Elena said," he mumbles.
Jason and his girlfriend sometimes have heated discussions. They both have a something of a temper. At times, she'll yell at him in Spanish and then he'll yell at her, frustrated that he doesn't understand what she's saying or what he has done wrong.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, but Jason shakes his head.
"Nah. I just want to forget about it right now," he replies, and I humor him.
A guard contacts me over the walkie and asks me for clearance to do a minor check-up at the fence. It seems to have a small crack. I give him my permission instantly, sending more men to make sure the job is carried out safely and ask them to report back at the earliest opportunity. Jason and I drive there to observe, but the job is carried out without any issues. It takes around half an hour and after that, we do a last sweep of the area before we return to headquarters, parking the car just outside. Jason and I talk some and I tell him to go home and talk to Elena. It's probably the best thing to do if they're having issues. He agrees and we walk a bit of the way together before Jason leaves to find Elena.
Just as I turn around to go home myself, I bump right into someone in the street. We both fall over, and it takes a few seconds until I get a good look at them. It turns out to be a guy the same height as me. He rubs his shoulder and gets to his feet quickly. He doesn't look happy, but when he gets a good look at me, he smiles. And it's quite a handsome smile. I begin to apologize, but he shakes his head and sticks out a hand to help me back on my feet.
"No harm done," he says, grinning. His movements are a little stiff, but his grip is surprisingly strong. He's one of the returned. You wouldn't know it until you get a good look at him. I guess I have a trained eye.
"I'm really sorry," I repeat. "I was little preoccupied."
He nods, gesturing to my walkie. "No problem. It looks like you're a commander, right?" he states and looks me over. I'm also wearing my uniform, so it's hard to deny.
"I am," I confirm and can't help but smile back. "I'm Cory. And you are...?"
"Marc," he answers, shaking my hand. We both chuckle.
I withdraw my hand. "Well, it's was great to meet you, Marc, but I have to get back. Duty calls, I'm afraid."
Marc nods. "Of course. I was just heading to the bar for a drink."
It's not a sentence you hear often anymore and I frown. I wish Marc a good night and leave a little faster than I have to. Instead of just going home, I decide to head back to headquarters to see if Jay is still there. I need to know what the General has asked of him.
JAY'S POV:
After a long meeting, I'm let out of my dad's situation room and find Cory waiting for me outside. I tell him about my new mission but not in too much detail. I also tell him that Jason and I have promised to show Peter and Michael around camp the following day. Cory rolls his eyes, but agrees nevertheless. I think he has a hard time with Peter being here because Peter used to be meaner to him than I was. I even think Peter broke Cory's arm once. But even a high school bully isn't enough to scare Cory away. I don't think anything could these days.
The following day, Cory and I wait for the others by the house, enjoying a little time outside in the sun. Cory is a lot tanner than I am - and for a good reason since he's been outside a lot more than I have. It's easy to forget how good sunshine feels on the skin. At the same time, it's a scary reminder of how pale I still am. Still, a tan makes my boyfriend look good. It's the small things, right?
"What's that smile about?" Cory asks me when I watch him soak up the sunshine.
"Nothing," I say, trying to look innocent. Cory doesn't believe me and gets to his feet. I make my way over to him and back him up to the wall of the house. Pinning him there, I lean in a kiss him. He smacks my chest lightly, because our friends can arrive any second - but he still tries to take control of the kiss.
This is why I love him.
I run my fingers across his neck, and he shivers under my touch. I smirk, feeling Cory's fingers bury themselves in my hair. I never want to let him go.
Then someone clears their throat so loudly we can't ignore it.
It's Jason.
I pull away, but only enough so that I can see Peter and Michael's embarrassed faces and Jason raising an eyebrow at us since I'm still pinning Cory against the wall with my body. He could easily move me, but he doesn't.
I give him a last kiss and let him go, blushing, and begin the tour, glad I brought my crutches along.
Camp is bigger now, so we start by pointing out useful places for Peter and Michael. They listen attentively as if this was a military briefing.
When we're through all the basics, we take them to the most interesting part of the tour; the rehabilitation center where Sadie and her colleagues work day and night. They are probably the busiest people in camp, trying to tend to the returned and everybody else in need of medical care. I'm so glad we have them and so glad we are able to help more and more people. The process of returning to life is not as long and painful as it used to be. Most people it through and eventually get to return to their old self - or rather, they get to remember who they were. No matter how you look at it, the infection changes you. It's something you'll always carry with you until the day you die. And none of us can take back what we've done while we were dead. I can never take back what I did, so I try to think about it as little as possible. Otherwise my insides cramp up in remorse and regret. In those moments, I can't stand to be in my own skin.
"Wait, you're rehabilitating them?" Michael asks incredulously, flinching when some of the returned crowd at the fence, black drool oozing from their mouths. They are some of the newest patients in Sadie's vaccination program.
"Yes," I reply. I know the sight of what we used to be is overwhelming, but I would have thought the fact that we have found a cure would be enough to make people see past that. Peter for one, is fascinated with the rehabilitation center and asks a lot of questions whereas the disapproval never leaves Michael's face.
"Wow, is this must be why you have so few boneys around these parts," Peter comments. "You're stealing all of their henchmen."
Jason laughs. "I'm pretty sure it's because they're afraid of guys like him," he says and points to me, getting just the reaction he was hoping for.
I roll my eyes.
"Why?" Michael asks. "What's so special about James?"
I can tell Michael doesn't think of me as much of a threat. I may have regained some of my strength, but my clothes still doesn't fit like it used to.
I sigh, and pull my shirt down, revealing the ugly scar on the side of my throat and the scars from my two bullet wounds. Peter and Michael widen their eyes, a million questions in their eyes. I look to Jason. I'm all for letting him explain everything since he's the one that brought it up like this.
"It's one hell of a story," Jason begins and the two newcomers look at him expectantly. "But the only reason we have these centers is because of Jay - and Sadie, of course. Maybe I should start from the beginning..." And then Jason tells them everything with all the horrifying details. When he tells them that Spencer almost killed me, Peter actually looks angry. Peter never really liked Spencer in the first place. Michael, on the other hand, looks confused after hearing the story.
"So that's why they fear him. And the other returned," Jason declares, a touch of pride in his voice that I'm not sure I deserve.
Peter considers me with narrowed eyes. "I thought that stuff was impossible," he says. "I've always thought people didn't come back once they were bitten..."
"We thought the same. Until Jay did," Jason replies, smacking my arm. "He's just a bit paler than usual."
... and weaker, but Jason is courteous enough to omit that part.
"Is that why you move so stiffly? And why you use those crutches?" Peter asks me, remembering the day we found them and brought them to camp. My legs were so stiff, I had to hold my gun in one hand and one of my crutches in the other. But I'm working on it every single day.
I nod. "Yes."
It's a bit of a thing to swallow; that there is a cure. So many experts spent years trying to find one before the old world went under. It's weird to think about now. Finding a cure now probably seems as impossible to Peter and Michael as we all thought a global apocalypse was ten years ago.
I'm about to continue the tour when Michael suddenly grabs the gun from my belt and points it at me. Jason and Cory react quickly, ready to shoot if he as much as tries to pull the trigger. It's not the first time I've been at the wrong side of the barrel. I put my hands up, letting my crutches fall to the ground. I try to get everybody to stay calm.
Michael's breathing is fast, and he is scared. Scared of me. His eyes flicker from me to Cory and Jason and back. Peter has his hands up, eyes wide.
"This is a trick!" Michael exclaims. "I know what you are! I won't let you kill us, I won't!"
I don't dare to break eye contact with him. "I'm not going to kill you, Michael, I promise you," I say. "It's true that I was one of them. But I got better. You've seen it. You've seen me eat human food."
Michael's hand shakes. "It's a trick!" he maintains, and his voice is shrill. "You're a killer!"
I swallow. His words hit me harder than I expected. I fight to keep my own voice steady as I answer.
"Yes. I am. I'm not proud of what I've done, Michael. You don't know how much I regret it because I can never take it back." My hands fall to my side. "The only thing I can do is to help others like me get better. It's the only way we can move forward. Otherwise, there is only death."
Michael lowers the gun just a fraction, still deciding if he's ready to believe me. He doesn't get a chance to make a decision because someone knocks him hard on the head, making him sink to the ground, unconscious. It's Isaac. He must have seen what happened and I have to say I'm grateful he did.
"Are you all right, Jay?" he asks me, stepping over the unconscious Michael to see to me. Peter rushes over to check on his cousion.
"I'm fine," I answer. "Thank you, Isaac."
He nods and takes some order, giving us a nod before he is off again.
Peter and Jason take it upon themselves to move Michael somewhere he can recover and maybe get some help. Peter explains that Michael has been on edge ever since their old camp fell. He apologizes too, but I wave him off. It isn't his fault. Unfortunately, fragile mental health is another problem we have to deal with as a result of this world. Many can't endure it and I'd be lying if I said I don't have bad days.
When Jason and Peter disappear with Michael, I finally look at Cory. When that gun was pointed at me, I heard him suck in a breath. I didn't look at him because I knew what I would find; that pained expression that I hate seeing on him. I can't bear the idea of hurting him like that again. Today, however, is the first time Cory has heard me say that I remember what I did when I was dead. He's been trying to make me talk for months and I'm sure he isn't happy that it took someone threatening to shoot me to make me start talking. Whatever he thinks, he doesn't say; he simply wraps his arms around me. The argument can wait until later.
But apparently, my nightmares can't. That night, I am taken back to the abandoned streets I used to shuffle around, and I see some of the horrible things I did and it twists my stomach into knots. I can't stop it.
I jolt awake, drenched in sweat, and Cory is staring at me with wide eyes. It's far from the first time it's happened, but it's the first time it's been so vivid and so horrible. I think I might even have screamed.
I sit up, panting for breath. Cory hands me something to drink and I take it, downing it all in one go. I know other returned have this problem too, but I was arrogant enough to think I wouldn't. Up until this point, I've only had a few nightmares.
Cory helps me change my shirt. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. I know what he's thinking. He wants me to talk, but I'm not ready. I can't face these memories in my waking hours, too. Just look what today's events have done to me.