"And the way you smashed his skull into absolute pulp?! Legendary!"
I fend off Kyle's big hands as he tries to ruffle my damp hair.
It's been a week, and Tully let us out again today. It was through gritted teeth, and we had a laundry list of supplies to look for (to prove our usefulness, I reckon) but it was another successful trip. Kyle needed to get out as much as I did, or he's exceptional at pretending to have a good time.
"The show of strength doesn't count if his skull was rotten through." I laugh.
Kyle shoves his way through a set of doors, walking backwards, talking loudly, unaware or unbothered by the gathered crowd in the canteen.
I've been allowed to eat in here the past week, but the brains still need me most days - needles and scans and tests and samples - and people still stare. I've sat with Frank, once or twice, but mostly with Kyle.
People have approached me for quiet conversations.
One was a man with salt and pepper hair and tired, dark eyes. He only wanted to thank me, personally, for helping his family get here.
Another was a young mother, who told me with fire in her eyes, that her daughter had died on the journey north. She didn't ask for an apology, but I gave her one anyway. Another name added to the long list in the back of my mind.
"Nah, nah, nah." He shakes his head, "Bursting a corpses brains like that takes muscle! And your swing? Like a fuckin' professional, Angel. I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life!"
"Shut up." I hiss, ducking around him towards the line for lunch.
People are looking and whispering.
"What?" Kyle scoffs, scraping a hand through his wet hair.
There's a bloody bandage around his bicep, like there's bandages around my knuckles. There's a protocol to arriving home; scrub down, tests, medical attention. They have to make sure we're safe for the general population.
Grace argued that we should be quarantined for twenty-four hours every time we go into the outside world, but even Tully deemed that unnecessary.
"Are you completely unaware of how shrill you are?"
Kyle digs his fingers into the soft flesh of my waist and I elbow him in the chest instinctively.
Around a wheeze, he gasps, "Why shouldn't people know we're going outside the wall? It's better than cowering."
"Surviving." I correct.
"Same thing." He mutters.
I grab him a tray and we shuffle along the queue together. Dinner ladies (that's what we called them in school, anyway, and I don't have a better word for them now) fill our plates and hand small cups of drink over. One of the ladies gives me a beaming smile and an extra heaping of Victoria sponge cake.
"Prick." Kyle says, aghast, when he sees the overflowing plate.
"Maybe if you were a little more approachable, they'd give you bigger portions."
"You don't need to be approachable when you're so damn good-looking." Kyle flexes his uninjured bicep, which is pretty impressive, though I don't let that show on my face.
He hands me a handful of cutlery and we turn together to the wider room, ready to find seats.
My eyes snag on a head of red hair, a surprising colour in a sea of browns and blondes and blacks. The head is attached to a pale hand, which is straight up in the air and waving frantically.
I catch sight of a pale, angular face and can't help a smile.
Gerard, of course.
Remembering Kyle, I look up, feeling guilty. He's already smiling down at me.
"I'll catch you later, Nevaeh."
"You don't want to join us?" I say, tentative.
A short snort, "Nah. See you tomorrow, okay?"
Crossing the room is difficult; people like to approach when I'm alone, and while most only want to share a quiet greeting, I get caught up in polite small talk.
It's only as I approach the table that I realise everyone is there. Mikey, Ray, Nat, Alissa - it's been ages since I've seen them. Gerard is on his feet, grinning as I hurry for him, and Frank's got an open seat at his side.
Gerard takes my tray and wraps me up in a massive hug.
He's warm, and smells like fresh paint and lavender, and his arms and his kindness are familiar as they fold around me.
"It's like watching a politician walk down a street." He chuckles.
"My cake got cold." I grumble against his collarbone.
He laughs and lets me go so I can drop into a seat. I aim for the cake first, savouring the last dregs of it's warmth. Only after swallowing a too big mouthful can I find the courage to cast my eyes around.
"Hello," is the pitiful greeting I have to offer.
Ray's hair is braided back, and his face is clean and clear, "Hi, honey."
Natalie has cut her hair short, all the way up to her jaw. Alissa's is softly waved down around her shoulders, though she's wearing no make-up and sporting chipped, red nail polish. Mikey has his arms crossed over his chest, but his face is friendly.
"You okay?" Frank asks, hand around my elbow.
I smile and nod, "Fine. Totally fine."
"How's the outside world?" Ray's tone is gentle, searching. Like he expects a scary story.
It was scary - but exhilarating, too. Fun to be free.
I cannot help that my smile inches wider. "Great. Kyle and I went further today. Found lots of stuff. Nothing lifesaving, but all useable, you know? Only the one good fight." My bandaged hands flex.
They all nod together. The movement is formal - awkward. Like they've all decided to put their collective effort into listening to me, responding positively. I wonder if they'd agreed on this course of action as I crossed the room. I wonder if they saw me coming and decided to suffer through my story, or worse, my presence.
I'm a stranger at this table.
"Did you get the paint I sent?" I twist towards Gerard, because if anyone is kind enough to try, it's him.
"Yes!" He exclaims, relieved. "Yeah, I did. Some soldiers brought it straight into the classroom; scared the shit out of the TA. They held it all hostage for a couple of days, making sure it wasn't contaminated, or something." A theatrical huff.
"The kids were able to use it, though?" I raise my eyebrows, hopeful.
"Loved it," His long fingers wrap around my bicep and squeeze. It's a comforting pressure. "One kid painted his whole face green he was so excited."
"There are... Many of them?"
Gerard's enthusiasm dips, "No more than twenty in the whole compound. A handful of teenagers, who of course don't want to be in school, and a smaller handful of toddlers and babies, who are too young to be in with the rest."
"I suppose there'll be some eventually; pregnancies and all that."
Gerard blinks, "You didn't hear about the ban?"
"The what?"
"They didn't sterilise you?" Alissa's voice slices between us. She's both unsurprised and scathing.
"Sterilise?" I demand, "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"We've not been sterilised," Natalie nudges Alissa, sighing. "But all the women have to be on contraception; it's a condition of being a part of the community. There's a ban on pregnancies."
It seems authoritarian, an infringement of rights, but my anger quickly mellows. As harsh as it sounds, it does make sense.
"Babies need a lot of specialist care, I suppose, and so do pregnancies." I mutter, "Better to ban it entirely than have it go wrong."
"You agree with it?" Natalie asks, shocked.
"I think it's harsh," I allow, as they all look round at me. "But there are only so many resources; a closed ecological system needs balance. They didn't send soldiers to the local communities when the outbreak hit for the same reason."
Ray frowns, and Natalie draws back. Even Frank is looking sideways at me, face unreadable.
"It's not fair to dictate what people can do with their bodies, Nevaeh." Gerard says gently. "People have been asking Tully to lift the ban. You don't think he should?"
"I think the greater evil would be to bring children into a dying world. What is there left to give them?"
Frank seizes up and looks away. His face is a mottled, distraught thing. I don't know why he's so affected by my words, unless... Unless he thought children were still a possibility.
I shouldn't be here.
"That's a soldier talking," Gerard's tone is a little amused, like he hopes I'm joking. "You've been spending too much time with Kyle. With Tully."
Maybe I am thinking like a soldier, but it has nothing to do with Tully, or John, or even Kyle.
"It's a shit decision, of course it is, and it probably hurt Tully to order it." I say, even though I don't want to defend him. "But it's a choice between a hard scenario and a harder one. Why do you think I never brought any of those people home with me?"
"What do you mean?" Gerard tilts his head.
"All those people on Dailey Way." I roll my eyes at the name, "They all needed help. I could have brought a dozen different families home. But I didn't, couldn't, so I packed them up and sent them on. Do you not think that was the selfish option? I'd drawn my circle and there was only so much room inside it."
Gerard's eyes are wide and bright like he is in danger of shedding a tear.
Ray looks thunderous. I suppose he didn't know that's how it happened; that this was the decision I was making. Alissa and Mikey are wearing similar expressions.
Frank just looks very tired.
"You left them behind?" Natalie breathes, "You... But they all say you saved them."
"I did." I shrug, "Most of them were in trouble. I got them out of trouble, and gave them supplies, and told them to come here. But some of them didn't want to go. Some of them asked to stay with me. Some of them begged. I said no to all of them."
"But even the ones that didn't ask," Alissa narrows her eyes, "You knew all of them would have been safer with us. And you still said no. Didn't offer."
"How many of them have recognised you, Alissa?" The fire in the pit of my belly flares, hot and harsh. "I had enough to carry; I couldn't risk more people who didn't contribute."
Everyone flinches.
God... I didn't mean that. I didn't want to-... Didn't want to argue. Didn't want to ruin this small, pitiful reunion.
My temper will eat me whole, one day.
"Nevaeh?" A new voice, and we're all distracted.
Two women, stood close together and dressed similarly. One whose face is marred by scars; three long slashes, pulling her expression downwards on one side. The other is smaller, petite, with a shaved head. Molly and Dylan, if I remember right.
"You busy?" Molly's voice is gruff.
"Did the brains send you?" My voice is harsher.
"No!" Dylan chirps, and elbows Molly. "We- um. We were wondering if you want to play a game of football. Numbers are uneven, we need a mid-fielder?"
"I'm a better defender." I say, automatically, tone still bordering on rude.
"That's fine!" Dylan perseveres, flashing a bright smile. "You can swap with Clint."
"Sure any of you would want to touch me?" I mutter, rolling my eyes. I'm being royally unpleasant; I don't deserve the kindness of the invitation.
"Figured if you're brave enough to go over the wall, we're brave enough to play with an almost-corpse." Molly grunts, but there's a hint of a smile on her ruined face. "Fancy it, Dailey? Or you just going to sit there like a moody wanker?"
My temper flares, and flounders, and the heat gripping my lungs loosens it's hold.
It's nice to be treated like a human being. It's all I've ever wanted.
My smile is involuntary, "You're going to regret this."
"Check said you'd say as much." Dylan laughs, delighted.
I glance at the table as I climb to my feet. Can't meet any pair of eyes; especially Gerard's. Frank's are out of the question, too.
"See you later." I murmur, and duck away before any of them can confirm or refuse this fact.
I don't hear a reply, anyway. If any of them give me one, it is too quiet to hear.
***
"You know, defenders aren't supposed to be so aggressive. You're supposed to defend your goal."
Travis is rubbing his tailbone, and there's grass-stains streaked up his back.
"You can't get to my goal if you're on the ground." I point out, like my behaviour is reasonable.
Jared gives a quiet chuckle; he was my goal-keeper, and though I lingered by him for most of the game, doing my best to stop Kyle and Travis from approaching, he didn't speak much. He's as skittish as he is pale, and awkward as he is tall.
Which is why I'm shocked when he offers a gloved hand for a high-five.
"Thank you for defending me." He says, very seriously.
My chest warms, and I jump to slap my hand against his, "You're welcome."
"You guys fuckin' lost," Kyle jogs in to snort, throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders, "Whatcha so happy for?"
"There are lessons to be learned in losing," Clint intones, removing his glasses to scrub at his sweaty face. "You may have won, Check, but we grew as people."
"It's my bad," Dylan sighs, still a little breathless. "I'm a shite striker."
"Yeah," Molly says, mock-serious, "You are."
"I let in more than I should have," I tell Dylan, because she looks down-trodden. "Our loss was a team effort."
Kyle gives me a shove, "Stop being so nice, Angel. None of them deserve it."
Most of Kyle's team have started to make their way back to the barracks. Names and faces I remember, but unsure which one goes to which. Was Stones the tall black guy, or the beefy blonde guy? Was Kristen the huffy brunette, or the pudgy ginger girl? I'll have to ask him to remind me before I see any of them again - if I'm invited again.
Dylan touches my elbow as we start across the shoddy field.
"Now I know what Check means when he calls you a beast."
"Kyle calls me a beast?" I ask, affronted.
"Not-" She stutters, winces. "Not in a bad way! He means like, you're relentless, you know? Travis is big and he's an asshole - I don't know many guys that would try to tackle him like that, let alone a woman."
I shrug, not sure how to answer.
"I guess..." She gives me a knowing look, "You've seen worse than Travis, huh?"
"Same as you, I suppose."
"No, not really." Her eyes are a lovely, mossy green. "I was lucky. I lived way out in the country when the infection hit. It was only me and my dad, and he shot himself when he was bitten. I didn't see anything awful."
"That's still awful." I say, sympathetic. "You must miss him."
"I do." She confirms, with a small smile. "Happy he's not one of them though, you know? Anyway, I set off on my own and was picked up by a convoy of soldiers on their way here. I'd only just turned fifteen."
Years ago, but she seems suddenly very young to me. We're not that different, age wise, but childhood still clings to her. I hope it holds on tight. I hope she doesn't cast it off.
"I've never been over the wall. Not since I came through the front gate." We're silent for a long moment. "Are you afraid?" She asks.
My answer is automatic, "Yes. All the time. Of everything."
"You don't seem that way."
Maybe that's half my issue.
"My fear has kept me alive, Dylan. I don't resent it."
"How do you mean?"
"My fear makes me look into alleyways, stops me at corners, makes me check under beds. It ensures I always have rounds in my gun and fuel in my car. It lets me hear everything, see everything, sense what others overlook. Being afraid doesn't make me weak, it makes me prepared."
Dylan searches my face, and eventually, when she decides I'm being serious, she smiles, big and wide.
"Do you reckon you could help me work on my strike?"
I laugh, "I'm not a very good goalie."
"Great," She hooks an arm through my elbow, "That'll make me feel better about myself."
We're just strolling off the pitch, with Kyle waiting for us to catch up, when I catch sight of Natalie.
She's got her arms hooked round her stomach, fending off the evening chill. She shifts uneasily as Travis and Clint pass her, looking down at the ground rather than meeting their eyes.
"You gonna come do drills with us tomorrow, Angel?" Kyle asks, jiggling my shoulder.
Before I can decline, as I have done all week, Dylan turns eagerly.
"Oh yeah, please do! It's not fun, especially if Brig is leading, but it'll be nice for you to be involved."
"Brig?" I blink.
"Brigadier Dailey," Kyle explains.
I'm not sure I want John barking orders at me, but I'd like to spend more time with the soldiers.
"Sure, okay."
Kyle and Dylan whoop, their enthusiasm entirely theatrical as they leave for the barracks.
I approach Natalie slowly, because she doesn't look happy.
She's got a coat on, stood with stiff shoulders. Autumn is well under way, or maybe autumn has already turned to winter. I'm really not sure how long we've been here or what month we're on. When we left the bungalow, it was mid-summer.
Her breath curls away from her nose and mouth in whorls of smoke, so it must be cold.
I don't feel it much, anymore.
"You okay?" I ask at a fair distance.
"How was the game?" She returns.
"We lost." A shrug, "Nice to be involved, though."
"And you're training with them tomorrow?"
"Might as well. Tully gave me permission. Beats being in the labs - I'm losing my muscle."
"You're losing much more than that, Nevaeh." She says it so sternly, so suddenly, that I'm taken aback.
"I-" Swallowing, I try again, "What do you mean?"
"Today, at dinner?" She holds up her hands, beseeching. "What the fuck was that? Where did that anger come from? That nastiness? You never used to be like that."
I'm pretty sure my temper has always been an issue. An intrinsic part of me; ever since my father died, my anger has bubbled up too fast, too absolute.
"Ever since you got bitten, you've been different. You've been, like, unapproachable. Totally unpleasant. And maybe we'd all try a lot harder to be your friends if you just... Made it a little easier, Nevaeh!"
"Have you considered that things have changed for me, for the worse, and I'm not particularly happy about it?" It comes out as an insolent grumble.
"We could make it easier for you! If you let us! But you don't!" She's ranting now, furious. "You snap, and you talk down at us, and you're never without Kyle, who doesn't like any of us!"
"I can hardly control that."
"You could look for us!" She exclaims, and her eyes are chips of ice, and her jaw is squared and her cheeks are flushed. "We all miss you-"
"Don't lie to me." I hiss, and it is as nasty as I'm able to make it.
"How is that a lie, Nevaeh?"
"How often have you looked for me? Asked to see me? You haven't spoken to me, any of you, for weeks. You all got jobs, made friends, moved on without me! And I'm the bad guy because I'm miserable?"
"We're all trying here, and you're fucking not!"
"How am I not trying?" We're both shouting now.
"Our life outside of this compound was shit, Nevaeh! We were all afraid, all the time! Stuck together! Bored and miserable and waiting to die! Waiting for you to come home hurt, waiting to get hurt! We could have a life here, and you can't let go of the danger!"
"Are you being serious?! I risked my life, day in and day out, and you were miserable because you were bored? You prefer being here because you're, what, busier?"
"Because I'm useful!" She hollers, and she's pink all over now, hands flying. "Because I can contribute in a way that matters! There is life here, Nevaeh, and you can't stand that we prefer it in this compound. You hate that you're not useful anymore, not needed, by anyone!"
The anger slips out of my chest like air out of a balloon.
"And what the fuck is up with you and Kyle, anyway?"
I frown, "Pardon?"
"He hangs off you like a lost puppy, and you let him, and it's eating Frank alive. Have you even considered him in all of this?"
Frank is all I ever consider.
"Moping around the way you do," She spits, "Do you not think it kills him? That you only smile and laugh with Kyle? That you so clearly prefer him?"
"Fuck off, Nat." I start away from her.
"You don't have anything to say? Any way to defend yourself?"
"There's nothing to defend!" I shout over my shoulder.
"You might have wanted to take care of us, Nevaeh, but you loved the violence of it all more than anything!" She calls. "That's why you have to go over the wall now - you don't want a peaceful life. You couldn't live peacefully, even if you tried."
I make it up to my room in record time. I arrive out of breath and damp with sweat.
Frank is coming out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel through his hair, made pitch black with wet.
"Hey," He greets, unsmiling, then frowns. "You okay?"
"Ran up the stairs." I pant.
"Why?" He blinks, "It's seven flights."
"Elevator wasn't fast enough."
"Okay..." He tilts his head, hazel eyes wary. "What happened?"
"Natalie found me out on the field." My tone is accusing.
His shoulders bunch up, and his face empties of all emotion. "Ah."
"Is that how everyone feels, is it?"
"What did she say, exactly?" He hazards.
It's like we're stood on opposite sides of a chasm, for all the space between us. He is looking at me like I'm a wild animal, ready to lunge, and he is bracing for the moment he has to run or defend himself. I'm looking at him like he's betrayed me; that's how I feel.
It is a hollow, horrifying feeling. This feeling of loss.
I'm losing him; it's the one thing I always knew I wouldn't survive.
"You'd all try harder to be my friends if I wasn't so unpleasant." I'm still panting. Around my exhaustion. Around my fear. I'm choked by it all. "I'm not useful anymore. I'm killing you and I prefer Kyle."
Frank's eyes widen, and his mouth drops open, and what I need is for him to deny all of this. I need him to shake his head and cross the room and fold me into his arms. I need his mouth on mine and I need him to say no, of course not.
He doesn't do any of that.
"I'm trying here, Nevaeh." His voice is strained, those golden eyes of his tortured.
"And I'm... Not?"
"The only time there's life in your eyes is when you come back from over the wall." His tattooed fingers wind together, "And you only do that with Kyle."
"You could have come with me." I shake my head. "You could have-"
"I don't want to!" Frank exclaims, an almost-shout. He's breathing hard now, looking at me like he's panicking. "I don't want to go back out there, Nevaeh, and none of us know why you have to."
I blink at him, once, twice, three times. "It's the only thing I've ever been good at."
He flinches back like I've swung for him, "Doesn't that frighten you, love? Do you not think there's something wrong with that?"
"Wrong with me, you mean?" I shoot back.
We stare at each other.
I can't believe this is happening. I can't... I don't want to believe this.
But it is happening, and... And I'll make it easier for him.
"What are you doing?" He asks, as I step into the room and grab my backpack.
It's already packed - it's always packed. An old habit. I don't know why I keep kidding myself that I'll ever leave this place. I duck into the bathroom to get my toothbrush.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Frank demands, and his hand flashes out to grab a strap of my bag. The curve of his bicep, painted over with colourful tattoos, swells as he tightens his grip.
"Let go, Frank."
"Where are you going?" There is panic in his eyes now, true, wild panic.
"I'm leaving."
"The compound?"
"This room. It's better for both of us, I think."
"That's not what I think!" He tries to step in close and I take a step back. "We can- We can fix this. We can talk about it-"
"Talk about what, exactly? What's going to change? Me? You? When have we ever?"
"Don't leave, love, you can't-"
"How can I not?" I exclaim, and I'm going numb. Feeling-... Feeling hollow and empty and cold all over. I must be in shock. "You don't like who I am. I'm making you miserable. I'm not going to change, or I've changed for the worst, and you-... You're trying to move on. Trying to recover. How can I stand in the way of that?"
"We can do it together!" He manages to snag my wrist, tries to pull me in close, can't. There's a flush in his pale cheeks, horror in his eyes. "Why can't we both try? Try to get better?"
"I don't know how to be anything other than this!" I holler at him. "This is all I have!"
"So you won't try to change? Not even for me?" He shouts right back.
"You don't want me as I am, don't love what I am now, so I've got to change?"
He flinches backwards. Drops my wrist and my bag.
His chest is heaving under the black shirt he wears. His hands are shaking. There is a cherry-red flush to those angular cheekbones. And those golden eyes, so precious to me, are as far-away as a distant planet, orbiting well out of my reach.
"Don't fucking leave." He says it like a warning. Like it will kill him if I do. Like he'll never forgive me.
"How can I not?"
I turn and walk for the door. It feels like it takes me years. It takes me long enough that he has a chance to call me back. A chance to get in front of me and bar the door and keep me here. He doesn't. Doesn't try, and I can't blame him for that.
How can I not leave, when I love him the way I do?
If it means he's happier without me, then I'm willing to live without him.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor, and walk through the empty reception. I see no one, hear nothing, sense very little as I cross dark streets. Maybe there are people, maybe they call out to me, I wouldn't know and I wouldn't care.
The soldier's barracks is a maze, but everyone has names on their doors.
I walk, slow and quiet, until one says Check.
I knock, and I hate myself for it, but I do it anyway.
I simply do not want to be alone - even if I do deserve it.
"Nevaeh?"
Kyle is shirtless, hair rumpled, toothbrush in his hand and toothpaste on his lips.
"Do you mind?" I murmur, shame-faced.
His eyes are very blue and utterly shocked as he scans me up and down. I must be pink, sweaty, looking lost and wild, like I've wandered in off the Moor. I'm holding my bag in the tips of my fingers, and this is what his gaze settles on.
His expression softens, and he steps back, holds the door wide. "Course I don't."
***
Gerard finds me the very next morning.
I'm walking off the field we'd played football in the night before, sweating, panting, fighting a queasy, rolling stomach.
"You're out of practice, Dailey." Molly chortles as she sidles past, giving me a hefty slap on the shoulder.
"You'll get your fitness up to where it was," Kyle reassures.
He's been gentle with me since last night. He'd let me have his twin bed, squishing his long limbs onto the little couch in his room. He's going to check storage today for another bed and mattress. I don't feel guilty about staying in his room, only taking up his space.
"Sure I will," my hands are on my knees and my legs are shaking.
Though I don't feel too bad; several other soldiers are having reactions like mine. Someone vomited halfway through the session.
"John only pushed us so hard because you were here. It was a test."
"One I surely failed." I mutter, straightening and shrugging him off.
"Well, at least you won't see your uncle at breakfast." Another comforting pat, "Let's go, Angel."
Instead of Nat waiting for me at the edge of the field, it's Gerard. Looking worried, and tired. He's bouncing on the tips of his toes as I approach.
"Leave it out, man." Kyle calls, "She's had a rough night."
"You would know." Gerard replies, his tone scathing.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Can I have a minute alone with Nevaeh?" Gerard's voice makes it more of a demand.
Kyle looks at me, eyes searching, brows up. I nod and Kyle leaves without question, squeezing my arm before he goes.
Gerard doesn't look particularly angry, but there is a wariness in his expression that was never there before. His red hair is particularly bright in the mid-morning glare.
"I like your hair." I say, hoping to distract him. Hoping for forgiveness. "I didn't tell you yesterday."
"Thank you." The words are clipped at the edges.
"About as subtle as a fire engine, of course."
He doesn't smile. Takes a long, deep breath. "Frank's a fucking mess, Nevaeh."
I feel my heart squeeze and close my eyes against the sensation.
I must turn my will to iron. I must not fail in this new task; saving Frank.
"What do you want me to say?"
His hands ball into fists, "Tell me you'll go back to him and not fucking sleep in Kyle's bed again."
"You know about that?" My eyebrows jump up.
"I don't suppose you know how fast gossip flies around this place." He scoffs, "By sunrise everyone knew you'd stumbled into the barracks. It wasn't hard to guess who you'd slept with."
"Stop saying it like that!" I hiss, "You're making me sound like some scumbag cheater."
He pinches the bridge of his nose, "I know it wasn't like that. You're not like that. But don't you see how it looks? And Frank doesn't like Kyle at the best of times, and you left him and went straight to Check-"
"Where else was I supposed to go?"
"You could have come to me! You could have-"
"I don't even know where your room is!"
He blinks, "I'm not in the headquarters, Nevaeh. I haven't been for weeks; me and the guys are on Dailey Way."
"You moved into a new house? Without Frank and I?" My voice fractures around the words.
"Frank knew about it - he wanted to come too, but Tully said you had to stay close to the brains. Frank wouldn't move without you."
And he didn't tell me, because that would have hurt too. Another thing he has shielded me from.
I harden my heart and steel my nerves, "Well, now he's free to do whatever he likes."
Gerard reels back so hard it looks like it hurts his neck. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what, exactly?"
"Have the brains told you something? Is something wrong with you? You're pushing us away, intentionally, and I'd like to know why."
"I'm sorry my unpleasantness is too hard to exist around," I narrow my eyes, "Last I checked, I hadn't done any pushing; you left me behind on the way to your new lives."
Gerard's mouth falls open; comically indignant. "We didn't want to come here in the first place, remember? I'm sorry it's turned out shit for you, Nevaeh. But we're trying to make the best of this-"
"And that's the problem, isn't it? I'm not the best thing for you anymore. Not useful enough now, right?"
"This isn't our fault, Nevaeh. We don't know how to help you, and every time we're together, you act like we're the enemy, or something-"
"The enemy." I scoff, "We've not actually been together, though, have we? I've not seen any of you for weeks. It's hardly a wonder I feel uneasy when I do."
"That's hardly fair!" He exclaims, "We've all got jobs! We're expected to contribute, you're always with Kyle – how are we supposed to spend time with you? We don't even know where you are, most of the time!"
"Where else would I be, other than with the brains?"
"And the only person authorised to see you while you're with them is Kyle! What more can we do? Honestly? Tell me and I'll make it happen."
I cross my arms over my chest and look away from his earnest hazel eyes.
"Are you asking because you're worried about me? Or because I've hurt Frank's feelings?"
Gerard flinches like I've slapped him. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"You wouldn't have come here if Frank hadn't wanted to follow me." I say it through gritted teeth, knowing I will hurt him, hurt Frank, who will hear these words from Gerard. "You've not bothered with me the entire time we've been here. Now that it's affected Frank, you're concerned. I understand he's your best friend, but I thought you cared about me too."
The colour slips out of his cheeks, and there is horror in the shape of his mouth.
"You don't believe that." He says softly, "You couldn't believe that about me. About all of us. I've never done anything to make you think that."
"Really?" I challenge, "How come you can't look me in the fucking eyes then? How come you can't touch me?"
"Stop it, Nevaeh. This isn't-... It's not fair."
"You stop it, Gerard. Stop being a coward and admit it. You've been afraid ever since I got bitten. You watched me die that day and I think you would have preferred it if I'd stayed dead."
He gasps. Gasps and falters backwards. Gasps like I've wounded him.
I duck around Gerard, feet aiming for the canteen. I don't want to look at his devastated face for another second more.
"Maybe I could have learned to look into your blue eyes and touch your cold skin, Nevaeh!" Gerard's voice is shrill, and there is evidence of tears in his choked words.
I do not turn to look at him, but he does bring me to a stop.
"I could have got used to all of that, if you'd given me the fucking chance. It's not the physical changes that bothered me. The truth is that you've been furious, and cruel, ever since you woke up. You're not the woman I loved. Not the friend I cared about."
Horror and devastation in my chest like I have never known.
And it hurts all the more from Gerard, who has only ever been gentle, and kind, and honest with me.
"Yeah well, you saw what happened to her." My words are as harsh as shattering glass. "She died, and she's not fucking coming back."
***
Summer, 2010
The little girl is looking at me with glossy blue eyes, the colour not far off that of a sapphire. There is a gap where her front right incisor should be. Her hair is a tangle of burnished sunshine, and her little hands are dirty and covered in blood.
"My mum is going to be okay, isn't she?" She asks me, very seriously.
It's a brave question, especially since she just saw her grandfather disappear under a pile of corpses, rendered and ripped to pieces, screams and snarls at a feverish pitch.
Kyle and I had come across them on the road. We'd been searching for supplies, and heard the noise in the distance, and I'd beaten Kyle to the front seat to hurtle towards the commotion.
"She's going to be fine." I say with the surety of a promise.
But her mother is convulsing under my hands, losing blood despite my best efforts to keep it all locked inside her body. There is metal in her side – a piece of car, warped and frightening.
When we came upon the scene, it looked like the hoard had flipped their car.
An old man had been defending a broken window; the only way into the vehicle, and all the humans inside it.
"Drive faster, Kyle." I order, because the little girl is still looking at me.
There is a bony black cat in her arms, with patches of missing fur and an absolutely furious expression. It is covered in blood.
"I can see the wall." Kyle says from the front seat. There's blood on his hands, blood on his chest.
I don't know if it's his blood or human blood or corpse blood. I don't know how injured we both are. I saw slices open up on the pane of his chest under dirty fingernails, and the throb of a gash on my thigh blurs my vision.
Kyle wails on the horn as we approach at top speed.
The mother has the same tangled sunshine hair, and she's writhing in agony, moaning brokenly. I think she's saying her daughter's name. I think she might be praying.
The door opens at the woman's side and clean hands reach for her.
When I look up it is Jared, looking pale but calm, and Dylan, who is bright red with adrenaline and looking horrified.
"What happened?" She shrieks, as Jared hoists the woman into his arms with surprising ease.
"We found them on the road being attacked by a horde. We lost one, but there's three of them." I report as I tumble out after them. "Press your hands down, hard, on the flesh surrounding the piece of metal." I order Dylan, "Do not touch the piece of metal. Take her straight to surgery."
Jared gives a clipped nod and leaves, with Dylan hurrying alongside.
We've parked inside the gates, and people are starting to approach, brought over by the noise.
"Where are they taking my daughter?" The voice is shrill and full of panic.
I reach into the back of the car, holding my hand out to the little girl. She takes it without blinking. Her flesh is warm and she does not flinch at my cold touch.
"That's my nan." She murmurs, "Will I be able to see my mum soon?"
"Yes," I say, putting a hand between her shoulder blades to get her moving.
"Nevaeh!" Clint and Travis come to a stop, having jogged over. "What the fuck-"
"Found them on the road." I grunt, "Get the car into the bunker. It'll have to be scrubbed down."
"We're not your fuckin' clean up crew." Travis snorts.
I raise an eyebrow; "There's corpse blood all over the interior. You don't want any getting into someone's system, do you?"
Clint's mouth drops open, "We'll get it done, Nevaeh."
"Thank you." I say, gratefully. Glancing down at the blood-covered child, who is pressed to the length of my leg, her face against my waist, I rest a hand on her head. "Come on, little bug. Let's get you cleaned up."
"I'm not a bug." Her voice is very serious and entirely too grown up.
"You smell like one."
Her little nose wrinkles indignantly, but the frozen expanse of fear controlling her face finally cracks.
"Where is my daughter? What have you done to her? Where are those two taking her?"
Kyle is struggling with the grandmother on the other side of the car, so I lead the girl round to help.
"They're trying to save her life," My voice is loud and stern, "Shall I call them back?"
The woman is tall, dressed sensibly, with her grey hair scraped back into a harsh bun. Her eyes are bottle-green and wild. She looks round at me, panicked.
"I want to go with her." She breathes, "I want to say goodbye if she's going to die."
"It was a flesh wound. Dramatic, but easy to deal with in a facility like this." I hold up my hand as she opens her mouth, "What we need right now is to get you to the labs, get you cleaned up-"
"Fuck that!" She hollers. "You'll take me to her and you'll do it now!"
"You're covered in corpse blood." I keep my voice calm, "What happens when you put your dirty hands on an open wound of hers? What if there's enough blood on you to turn her? What if you kill her?"
The lady blinks, and then her face crumbles, and she starts to shudder and sob.
"Help her to the labs, Kyle. She'll be okay."
"Sure thing, captain." He gives me a quick grin and hooks a hand under the lady's elbow. He carries most of her weight as they head up the road.
"Shall we go with your nan, smelly bug?" I ask the girl, who is still burrowed into my side. Her fingers are hooked into my belt loops.
"Will I be able to shower?"
"Sure. There's hot water here, too."
She frowns like she'll believe it when she sees it.
A few gathered bodies have turned to a crowd. They are all looking; at the battered car, at the swathes of blood splattered on the concrete, at me, at the girl. They're talking amongst themselves. Some of them look afraid, others sympathetic.
"Are they all looking at me?" She sounds terrified.
"Nah," I say, squeezing her shoulder. "They're looking at me. I'm like, totally famous."
Her scoff is more of a squeak.
Taking pity on her, I bend at the waist to pick her up. She wraps her legs around my hips and tucks her head into my neck, the cat, which doesn't protest, caught between our stomachs.
I groan as her weight settles on my battered body. It hurts more than one injury, and I must grit my teeth against the tug of pain.
"Nevaeh?" A breathless voice from the crowd, and I look around automatically. It's Frank, looking worried. His hair is longer, and his face pale in the light of the setting sun.
"You okay?" He demands, because I haven't said anything.
"Fine."
"Do you want some help?" A gentle request, and his clean hands reach for the girl in my arms.
I shift her out of reach, "No."
I leave without looking back.
"Her mother is going to be okay." Archie tells me.
The girl's name is Sophie, and she's sitting cross-legged on a camp-bed with that furious cat in her lap. Her nan is sat on the adjacent bed, with a faraway look in her eyes. They're both clean and damp-haired.
I'm looking through the little window in the door, having just said goodnight to the both of them.
"Is a house being prepared?"
"It is." Archie confirms, "Dailey Way will run out soon."
"Survivors are few and far between." I return, wincing again at my namesake. "They have to stay here for the night?"
"A full twenty-four hours. Tully ordered it; they've been outside for so long, we have to make sure they're free of all diseases and ailments, not just the infection."
A closed community like this, where gossip and the flu spread quicker than an evening breeze. We can't be too careful, I suppose. Still, I don't like to see Sophie in the observation room. Her nan is too preoccupied with worry to check on her.
"Okay, well, I'll see you, Archie." I give him a nod. It's been a long fucking day, and I want nothing more than to sleep. Hopefully Kyle is back from the surgery, his lacerations stitched and everything fine.
"Actually, Nevaeh," His voice has turned hesitant, guilty, "Could you come with me to the labs? Grace and I need-
"Oh, god. No." I wave him off, "Not tonight, okay? I can start tests again in the morning. I'm tired, and aching all over."
"Grace has insisted. Please, Nevaeh. It has to be tonight."
Dragging my feet and scowling the whole way, I follow.
It's not until they're in front of me that I even notice Tully and John.
My uncle is sat at one of the counters littered with papers and equipment. He's nursing a coffee, his eyes tired but his spine rigid. Tully is pacing, with his sleeves rolled up his forearms and his buttons undone at the neck.
Grace is pottering, not speaking to anyone, checking notes and test tubes. Her hair is messy and skin pallid.
"Nevaeh!" Tully announces my presence enthusiastically, "Finally. Are you hurt? Did you lose much blood?"
"Superficial wounds, sir."
"Good to hear it, good to hear it!" He claps me on the back, "Heard you brought in some strays. Now we don't usually interfere, but I suppose I can't be annoyed at you."
He says it good-naturedly, but there is a tightness to his jaw. I think he's warning me not to do it again.
Not that I'll listen to him.
"How's Check?" John asks.
"He needed stitches and he'll live. I'm fine, by the way." I narrow my eyes, "On my way to bed, actually, so if this can wait-?"
"It can't." Grace puffs up, looking important. "The following conversation might just be the most important words every person in this room has ever uttered."
I look from John to Tully to Archie. Archie doesn't look confused, he just looks guilty.
"Let's get on with it then," John grunts, "Before we die of the suspense."
"I think," Grace breathes in, then out, for dramatic effect, I reckon. "I think we've found a cure."