This Isn't the Zombie Apocalypse

6. Read: In Need of Babysitter

Suddenly angry, I exploded, "The other is some ten-year-old kid!"

"I'm twelve," Ana snapped, shooting to her feet so she could tower over me. This didn't sit well with me, so I quickly struggled to my feet, making sure to bend over her to show who was superior.

Crossing her arms, Ana cocked her head to the side and leaned heavily on one hip, her eyes saying, "Really?" Ana shook her head, jamming a finger in my chest. "Look, we have to work together, obviously, so we might as well get over it now."

"Wise words, kid," I snorted, "but I don't think this is gonna work unless you have a lot of information for me." Honestly, I had no idea why I was acting the way I was, but I guess it had to do with the fact that supposedly the other was some bonkers ten—excuse me, twelve—year-old. Why couldn't there be some big sign that read, "The Other" for me? It would be so much easier. That way, I wouldn't have to feel the disappointment of not being sure but pretty sure that the only person who could possibly help me was some kid. Because Ana was a kid, a child; maybe I was considered a minor as well, but at least I was a teenager.

Ana sighed and rolled her eyes, leaning her head back with a groan. "You know, I don't like this anymore than you do, but we have to deal."

I spread my arms, shrugging. "Okay then, we're dealing. Now what do we do?"

And there it was, my big reason. Ana Renee didn't know anything and neither did I, and now it was finally starting to set in. For the past year I had been wandering, trying to figure things out, feeling like my whole life was revolving around running from Death and running to the other at the same time. I had been hoping for someone to help me, maybe guide me. Turned out, the other was younger than I was and would probably need the guiding for herself.

(I should capitalize Other, because it seemed like a big deal. A really big deal that no one understood. Which was frustrating. And annoying.)

But now I had found the Other, and from what I could tell nothing was going to get done—unless Ana trying to get herself killed counted, because if that was the case, she already tried!

We were still standing, glaring at each other. If looks could kill, both of us would have been incinerated. But they didn't, so we still had to deal with each other and figure out what was going on. Yeah, like I hadn't already been doing that before.

Ana's eyelids lowered into slits. "We figure it out, dimwit." Then she plopped down on the ground, sending up a cloud of dust, her arms crossed, posture daring me to disagree.

Which I couldn't do, because she was right. "Fine," I growled, carefully lowering down, my body aching and throbbing with each heartbeat, my blood-pressure rising—which I was positive had risen from anger and Ana. Not that I would let Ana know that.

Suddenly, I didn't like her even more. And to think, I had been so ecstatic to hear her yap mere seconds before. We were even having a considered-civil conversation.

Of course that went down the drain as soon as we learned that we were supposed to work together to do something great. It could have been to sell newspapers for all I knew, although I highly doubted that was what we were destined to do considering the fact that, you know, we were buddy-buddy with Life and Death.

Ana breathed deeply, sitting criss-cross applesauce, hands on knees, like she was meditating. "My name is Ana Renee."

"Okay," I interrupted, nodding my head. "And I am Cal Renee. I thought we went over this. The whole 'You are the Other' thing, remember?"

Frowning, Ana shut her eyes for a moment, muttering, "Impossible," under her breath before opening them again to send a piercing look at me. I could almost hear her homicidal thoughts.

"Why, thank you," I replied sarcastically, sighing and leaning back on my hands. "I quite enjoy being impossible to a ten-year-old."

"Twelve!" shouted Ana, her voice cracking at the end. "I'm twelve, and I don't think my age should matter in this situation."

"Then why does it matter if you're twelve? Why can't you be ten?"

"Because you keep bringing it up!" Breathing deeply through her nose, Ana leaned forward, her eyes forcing themselves to mine. She lowered her voice, forcing me to lean forward too. "Look, Cal, I can handle myself. Right now, I'm acting more mature than you are, so maybe you should cut me some slack."

I snorted. "We don't know anything. At least, I don't, and I have a feeling you don't either."

"You don't know that, because you haven't allowed me to say anything," Ana pointed out, and I wanted to slap her silly because she was right. Again.

This was what I got from being anti-social for the past year: I lost any and all abilities to communicate and interact with living people. "So?" I asked, trying—but failing—to lose some of my previous rudeness; it didn't want to leave. "What do you know? What's been up in your life recently?"

Ana growled—literally growled, low and deep in her throat, like some sort of wild animal, except without the whole baring of the teeth part—at me. "I've been busy trying to figure things out."

"Good, good," I mumbled. "Nothing new there."

Another growl and dark look, and then something in me sort of snapped. I didn't react, but the way Ana was acting reminded me of someone... And I really wanted to push her off a cliff or skyscraper. I wasn't sure why, because before the day I died and everything changed, I had been an out-going guy. I may not have been the most popular of kids, but people enjoyed my presence and I generally enjoyed theirs. It was difficult to make me hate someone.

And then came Ana Renee. For the first few minutes, where I thought that maybe we would be simple passerby or one-conversation travelers, things had been rather normal if I counted the fact I was a bit more delighted in listening to someone complain about cursing. Then we learned that we found the Other, that we had to stick together, and suddenly all I wanted to do was rip Ana's face off.

I didn't make sense.

It was a new feeling, this utter loathing I had for someone, yet we had to work together. Before realizing that, I was fine—possibly because I was tipping on the edge of fatal exhaustion, but still. There was no reason to be as—as angry, as furious at Ana as I was.

"Maybe," Ana said through gritted teeth, "I should show you."